Disclaimer: I only own the plot.
A/N: A new fan fiction, one that I've had stewing in my mind for months now. Yes, I will get back on track with my other stories, but when inspiration hits, and hits hard, who am I to resist? Anyway, as per usual, reviews are always highly appreciated, and constructive criticism will not be spurned! So, please, read onwards, and remember to leave a review!
A brief warning: I'm putting this fic as M for a reason, though in the first chapter it's more PG-13. Also, this fan fiction will be a f/m/m pairing, the ship being HG/DM/BZ.
Lost
Chapter One
The ground was coarse. And gritty. Sand, a slightly bemused Hermione concluded, was what she was currently lying upon. She tried to open her eyes, but clapped a hand over them, squeezing her eyes back shut again tightly, when viciously bright sunlight hit her pupils. Choking back a cry, she raised a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes furiously.
Letting her hand run back through her tattered, wet hair, she frowned when her fingers encountered a sticky, warm substance. Probing gently, her fingers trailed across a throbbing cut, oozing what could only be blood. Nausea swamped her stomach, and Hermione struggled to repress the urge to vomit. Blinding, white-hot pain exploded in her head, and there was a sudden roaring sound in her ears as her grasp on consciousness faded entirely.
Hermione smiled softly as she settled back into her seat. The older man in the seat next to her was asleep, a book resting facedown on his lap. The Muggle was a kind, fatherly man, and Hermione had spent the first two hours of the plane flight talking with him. He had spotted the obvious signs of her panicked homesickness, and had reassured her that she'd have a lovely time. It was the first time Hermione had ventured out on her own for a holiday, and the sudden feeling of freedom was heady, euphoric and frightening in its potency.
The plane rocked slightly with a particularly strong gust of wind, and Hermione jerked in her chair. Sliding her hand into her pocket, she sighed as her fingers reassuringly touched the smooth wood. Despite being a Muggle-born witch, Hermione still felt far more secure with her trusty wand within reach. Muggles may have been brilliant in the creation of the aeroplane, but accidents did happen – and Hermione wanted to be fully prepared.
The seatbelt lights flickered to life, and Hermione clipped hers on, before reaching over to gently wake up the Muggle man, David, next to her. He hurriedly clicked his own seatbelt into place, and picked up his book, giving her a small smile.
"Some wind, I expect." He commented casually.
The pilot's voice resounded from the speakers. "We're encountering some turbulence, passengers. Please keep your seatbelts on until the light goes off; we're going to fly through a storm, and the winds may get a little rough. Thank you."
"Ah, see, Miss?" David chuckled beside her. "Just some turbulence. Nothing to worry about."
"Who says I'm worried?" Hermione murmured.
He gave her a long look. "It's in your eyes, my girl." He smiled at her. "Really, there is no need to be afraid."
He shifted in his chair, returning to his book once more, but Hermione stared ahead of her, unable to shake off the foreboding sense that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.
Hermione groaned, feeling water lapping at her feet as her mind resurfaced. Disoriented, she struggled to raise herself up on her arms. Opening her eyes, she once more encountered brilliant sunlight, reflecting sharply off the sand. Blinking repeatedly, she tried to stand, feeling dizzy and strangely sick. Darkness enveloped her mind once more before she made it even halfway to her feet.
The plane rocked violently beneath Hermione, wind howling past the windows. She gasped, gripping the armrests tightly. Beside her, David, too, looked clearly unsettled, and both jerked in alarm when they saw, out the window, lighting flash dangerously close to the plane. Plane stewards moved around, trying fruitlessly to calm the passengers down. Thunder roared outside, and the plane seemed to shudder from the intensity of the storm. A loud cracking sound came from the left of the plane, straight after another bright flash.
There was an ominous silence, and then people screamed as the plane began to wildly tilt. Hermione whipped around in her seat, her horrified eyes taking in the sight of the plane's left wing, now a mass of burning tatters. A flaming piece of debris came loose, heading towards the nearest window. Hermione shut her eyes, and then heard the sound of glass cracking.
The eerie sound of pressurized air escaping through the tiny hole sent a sliver of icy fear down Hermione's back, and she struggled to quell the terror that rose up like bile in her throat when the breathing masks dropped down. The whistling sound coming from the ruined window increased in pitch, the whine becoming an insistent drone. Suppressing the urge to scream, she shakily drew a mask over her face, watching as David did the same. Hermione braced herself, glancing at the window before leaning forward to wrap her arms around the chair in front of her. David mimicked her movements, as did a few others.
A scream tore out of her throat at the sudden sensation of the plane dropping, nose-down, towards the ground far below. A loud, smashing sound heralded the shattering of the glass window, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the suction pulling her inexorably towards the small opening. She felt nauseous, as the feeling of being in an elevator descending too fast increased, the plane plummeting downwards, faster and faster.
Heat scorched her cheek as another flaming chunk whizzed past. There was an agonized cry, and Hermione turned to see David reel back from the impact as the white-hot shard of metal sliced clean through his shoulder. Hermione reached out to him, trying to pull him back to the dubious safety behind the seats, but the plane made a wrenching motion, and a massive shudder rocked the whole thing. Hermione screamed, watching in terror as the plane seemed to crumple and collapse in upon itself as it hit an expanse of water. Near her, a section of the plane's side was slowly being torn open.
Hermione scrambled to her feet, the air pressure reduced, and lunged towards David, grabbing his arm. She pulled him away, moments before a section of seats buckled out of shape, lifting and tearing away from the plane's floor and crashing into the spot he had been in mere seconds ago. Another shard of metal, torn away from some part of the plane's left wing, whipped past. Hermione watched David fall, slowly, to the ground. Sobbing and clutching at his arm, she turned his now prone body over. She wailed, clutching at his arm tighter when she saw that the metal had struck his forehead, blood seeping sluggishly down past blank, lifeless eyes.
Hermione feverishly dug her hand into her pocket, fumbling around until she found her wand. Raising it, she barely had the presence of mind to utter a Cushioning Spell before something struck the back of her head, and she felt herself tumbling towards the gaping hole in the side of the plane, black spots dancing across her vision. It was only later that she would realize that the spell had saved her life.
Hermione coughed, spluttering as cool water was dumped over her head. Her mind abruptly kicked into gear, reminding her of the plane crash, and David's sudden death. Choking back a sob, she opened her eyes, finding that the sunlight had lessened to a more bearable level. Someone was crouching before her, and she could hear, past the faint ringing in her ears, the muffled sound of their voice.
"Oh, fuck…Gra – ? Shit…get…plane crash…dead…no one…Granger!"
She propped herself up onto shaking elbows, confusion draining away slowly as comprehension seared through her agile mind. She blinked rapidly, wondering vaguely why her vision was blurry. "Wha – ?"
"Granger," The voice was clearer now. It was a man's voice. "You're hurt, obviously. Can you stand? We need to – hey, no – no, don't faint, stay with me, Granger!" He grabbed her shoulders, gently shaking her. She caught sight of platinum blonde hair.
She peered blearily up at her would-be saviour. "How do you know my – " She cut herself off, staring in bewilderment, and gradual shock, at the man before her. "Malfoy?" Was the last thing she managed to get out, her tone incredulous, before a sickening swoop of pain made her faint. Again.
TBC