Author's Note:
The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 7
House: Slytherin
Class: Ancient Runes
Category: Drabble (up to 1,000 words)
Prompt: [Action] Screaming in shock/surprise/fear
Word Count: 981
Disclaimers/triggers: AU, Time-Turner misuse, some body horror/transformation, adult Snamione.
Beta Love: Thanks to Dhrish, Charlie, and Persnickety Fics for looking over my story!
Additional note: Writing my OTP, as a treat.
Fragmented
Hermione screamed in terror as she fell through the darkness. She groped wildly around her and her hair whipped wildly around as she plummeted down.
'The Time-Turner!' she thought, but her pockets were empty. There wasn't even the familiar comfort of her wand, as she'd left it on the desk with her research papers.
Hermione had been careful. She'd done her research. She'd triple-checked her figures. She'd opened the door using the Time-Turner with ancient runes to tether it to her time-space.
And now, all because Neville had interrupted her final incantation, she was unmoored from the very fabric of reality.
She began to float more gently as she continued sinking into the dark. She pushed her hair out of her eyes to see small orbs of light rising around her. The more it escaped into the darkness, the more she slowed, and she realized with shock that the light was seeping from her body.
"Is this…time sand?" Hermione asked in wonder, momentarily transfixed by the swirl of tiny lights around her fingers.
Blaming Neville wasn't fair, not really. He had a known habit of barging in the door with herbology facts. She'd been sloppy by not warding the door shut the way she'd always done before. When they'd only won the war by a tiny margin, losing Harry, Ron, Luna, and many more, Hermione couldn't let it go. As a new professor at Hogwarts, she'd used her access to the Hogwarts sub-basement library, which held grimoires that were older than the castle itself. She didn't just want to go back in time. She wanted to rewrite it. Historical texts on the subject mentioned that Merlin had been the last to manage this feat, but Hermione knew she could do better.
A soft skittering, like the sound of rocks dislodging under a boot, echoed from somewhere behind her and she twisted her head in surprise.
"Hello?!" she screamed into the darkness. "Who's there!?"
The familiar glow of a wand-tip appeared.
"Please! Help!" she cried, embarrassed at how strained she sounded.
A rush of footsteps broke away from rocky earth and Hermione found herself gathered up in the soft arms of the wand-user. Her rescuer gave off an earthy odor along with a hint of mint and unidentifiable familiar scent she couldn't place.
"I—I lost my wand," she said, nervous as she clung to her savior's robes. "I fell, and I'm not sure where I am."
"You are safe. For now." She could feel the deep timbre of the man's voice against her chest as he spoke, and her face went warm with embarrassment at being treated like a damsel.
'Yeah, but whose fault, exactly, is that?' she chided herself silently.
Oddly enough, the warmth of being held combined with the terror from falling. Her eyes grew heavy and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.
Hermione started, blinking with surprise, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.
She was lying on a black leather chaise lounge in what appeared to be a personal library. Bookcases ringed the cozy room, and a desk in the corner overflowed with parchment. She glanced around, looking for the wizard that had saved her, but she only saw the amber glowing stones set into sconces on the walls.
"Where are you?" she asked. "I want to thank you for helping me, Mr…" She trailed off at the sight of glittering eyes staring down at her from a shadowy corner.
"Snape," the voice said. "What in Merlin's name were you doing in the caves, Miss…"
"Snape?!" She cried out. "Truly?" She shot out of the chair and advanced upon him, her eyes wide. "But, I thought you were dead!"
The glittering eyes widened and he backed away further into the shadows, but she wasn't afraid. Soon she had him backed up against the wall, and in the dim light, he looked frightened of her. She'd not changed that much in the past five years. She was surprised he hadn't recognized her. Holding her tongue, she pulled on him by the wrist and dragged him out of the shadows, surprised at how easily he came along.
"No," he moaned. "You can't!"
Hermione pulled him under one of the sconces and turned around, already gearing up to lecture him. When she saw his face, however, the words died in her throat and she let out a tiny gasp of surprise.
"Don't look at me!" Snape cried, covering his face with his free hand. Still, he did not pull away, and after a moment of shock, Hermione reached forward to pull the hand away from his face.
"Who did this to you, Professor?" she asked softly.
She held him by both wrists, looking up at the decidedly different face before her. It wasn't just the long, swiveling ears, or the black fur that ran down both sides of his face like mutton-chops. It wasn't even the batlike, leathery wings that had spread out behind him, bumping a few books off the shelf as they did so, or the dark, glittering eyes with no sclera that closed as he cringed before her. No, it was that his sallow face was thinner and younger than she'd ever seen it. There was no defined crease between his eyebrows or light frown lines at his lips.
"It happened a few months ago," Snape replied, frozen under her touch. "The Dark Lord…he did something. It's tied to our magical core. How did you escape it?"
"I—" Hermione tried to speak, but a blinding flash of pain hit her all at once. It was as though her nerves were on fire, and she dropped to her knees, screaming.
"No!" Snape said, horrified, kneeling down and placing his hand on her forehead. "Stay with me!"
But all Hermione could do was let out an inhuman scream as her body began to transform into something new.