Authors' Note: Sorry about the delay. Stuff happened. Too much stuff to talk about here. Thanks for waiting!! Enjoy!
*********
Scully, in high spirits, after recovering from the previous night, bubbled, "Why I don't I drive this time, Mulder?"
Mystified, but bored with the dull surroundings, Mulder responded, "Sure, Scully. Whatever. As long as we get to the morgue, I'll be fine."
Scully clambered into the tiny British vehicle, and chipperly examined the car's various buttons and knobs. To her left was a tiny control panel that allowed her to move the automated seats backwards or forwards. Her seat was about a foot and half away from where she needed it to be, so she pressed the forward button just as Mulder was strapping himself into his seat.
Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr--
Mulder looked at his watch.
--iiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
"Sixty-five seconds, Scully. I'd call it missing time, but we knew where we were the whole time," Mulder cracked, looking up from his watch. Scully glared at him.
"I'm in a good mood," she said crossly, "so don't spoil it."
Mulder grinned at her as she pulled the car out of the parking lot.
*********
"*Yes,* Harry, but *why* would the giraffes want to *eat* the Lucky Charms?"
Snoring came from the armchair opposite Ron's.
"Although this is an enrapturing conversation," the black-haired girl began, "I hope you'll allow me to cut in."
"Harry, wake up."
[Snort, snort, snorrrre]
"Harry, *wake up*!"
"Huh? What? Oh. Sure. So...what's your name again, young lady?"
"Alsatia. Don't laugh," she said quickly.
Ron let out a quick snort, then excused it, "Sorry, nasal congestion. You understand."
"And why did you come here?" Harry prompted.
"I need your help. Well, I need to confess something." She took a deep breath, during which Ron interjected--
"But, Harry, the giraffes, I mean, really! Lucky Charms?"
"Ron! Shut up! The girl wants to say something!"
Under her breath, Alsatia muttered, "And to think this man could have been my father..." More loudly, she said, "I am Hermione Granger's daughter."
Much shocked gasping followed this.
Then there was a shocked silence, broken by "Ron, maybe they didn't eat *Lucky* Charms. Maybe Count Chocula."
"You're Hermione's daughter? *No.* Really?"
"Yes. Look, I have my birth certificate here," she dug it out and showed it to him, deliberately covering the part that said the name of her father.
"No kidding," Ron said faintly.
"Well, maybe not Count *Chocula,* but certainly Frosted Flakes."
"Who's your father, then? I'm assuming it's me until further notice."
"Or maybe Wheaties," Harry continued.
"Who were you going to say I was the spitting image of, before? Huh?"
"Or Cheerios. But it's really a stretch."
"I was going to say you look the spitting image of...son of a billy goat," he said, as he realized who her father was.
Harry snapped to attention. "What? What'd I miss?"
"Harry! This girl's dad is--"
"My father is--"
"Who's her father?!"
(Authors' Note: Could we drag this out a little longer?)
"What?!"
"My father is--"
"What?!"
(Authors' Note: Yeah, we could)
"Shut up, both of you! My father's name is--"
"Her father's name is--"
"Who is it? What?!"
"SNAPE! MY DAD'S SNAPE!"
There was an extremely long pause.
"Froot Loops, maybe..." Harry pondered. (Authors' Note: Okay, that was the last time)
"How?! Why?!" Ron paused to think about it. "He didn't--she didn't--EW!"
"It was rape," she said quietly. "Remember that trip she took to Africa? The sabbatical?"
"Oh my God..." Ron said. Harry echoed him, finally catching up to the conversation. Then Harry said,
"Ick."
"How could I not have known? How could--oh my God. She was my *wife.* My *love.*"
"Ew," said Harry, still thinking of how Alsatia had come to be.
"Where is Snape now? I'll kill the bastard."
"You can't. He's already dead. I killed him myself."
"How?"
"It was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."
"Tell us the whole story," Harry told her, for the first time since the beginning of his visit, awake. He'd spent the night at Ron's snoozing in that same armchair (*not* in the same bed as Ron, you dirty-minded people, you).
"Well. It all started when..."
*********
"So *why* are you in such a good mood today, Scully?" They were walking into the morgue.
"Because we're taking a little side trip today, Mulder. To a place that has nothing to do with magic," she answered, smiling brightly.
"*Where* are we going?"
If possible, her grin widened. "Oxford."
"What?! Oh, no. No, no, no," Mulder recoiled in horror. "No, no, no, no, no."
"Oh, yes. And I'm going to meet *all* your old friends. Especially the ones who called you..."
"Don't say it, don't say it."
"Fox."
"Ugh."
"Yup. Today's going to be a *good* day."
"Mr. Mulder? Miss Scully?" They'd reached the sign-in desk.
"Yes, hello."
"We saved that body for you. Although, frankly, we don't know what you're looking for. Just an old man who died in a trailer park."
"Well..."
"Here's where I leave you, Scully. I gotta go interview Elvis Malfoy. Have fun!" Before she could protest, Mulder had trotted off and taken the car.
"Miss Scully, about this autopsy report," the man behind the counter said.
"What about it?"
"The date. It was the right date--except for the year. You wrote the date for fifty years ago!"
"What? Let me see that." She seized the clipboard the was holding. "No, no--there must be some mistake. This is the right year." She looked doubtfully down at the paper.
The man gave her a funny look. "If you say so, Miss Scully." He gestured towards the examination room. "Go ahead, then." As she strode away, still looking confused, he muttered under his breath, "Americans are so odd..."
*********
(Authors' Note: Okay, we'll be nice and go back to Alsatia's story)
"Your wife--my mother--was on sabbatical in Africa. You knew that part. What you *didn't* know is that Snape," she said the name with disdain, "was also in Africa at the time. He'd followed her there. He'd gotten a bit--off--in his old age...well, he wasn't that old. In his sixties, really. Anyway. He'd followed her there for one purpose--I already told you what the purpose was. I don't know the specifics, except that he used the Imperius curse to make her do what he wanted, but he wound up raping her, and then running off.
"Hermione was very broken up about it, and quite understandably, too. She was staying at friend's in Africa--you knew that, too, I'm sure--and she went to her friend for support. That friend was the person who wound up raising me. Neville Longbottom?"
"*Neville*?" Ron was aghast. "No. Really? He never told us."
"Yes," she said mournfully. "He died last year. I was heartbroken."
Harry looked ashen. "Yes, we heard about the incident with the wayward butterly and the teddy bear. Neville...we've known him since forever."
"Yeah, poor old Neville. Don't you leave me, too, Harry!" (Authors' Note: Hannah wanted to add 'em all, but I refused)
"I won't, Ron."
"Neville was very dear to me," Alsatia continued, "he was like my father." Ron snickered at that. "But he was never very coordinated. If anyone could die that way, it was Neville. He left a letter for you two--said it was imperative you get it. Here." She dug a hand into her coat and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to Harry. "But to get back to the story: when I was about fifteen, I became obsessed with the idea of finding my family again. Neville warned me against it. He said I didn't want to split up my mother's family--I understood that part, even though it frustrated me--but I wanted to find my father. So I did. When I was old enough, when I was eighteen, I left home and went in search of him. Found him in a nursing home--of course--and he told me he didn't want me." Tears came to her eyes. "I already knew about how I'd come to be, but I thought that maybe there could possibly be some love there. But there wasn't."
Ron, overcome by emotion, stood up and made a very, very slow journey across the room to pat her on the back. Harry, during this time, took a lovely, refreshing nap. He woke up when Alsatia began to speak again. "I insisted that Snape loved me. It was ridiculous, I knew even then, but I so wanted to believe that my own father wouldn't abandon me. But when I persisted, he grew furious, and snagged my wand. He was advancing me, prepared to *kill* me--I grabbed it back, threw off his balance, and--well--he fell out a window.
"It seems ridiculous, I know, but it happened. I'm sorry the whole incident ever happened. I'm sorry I even went there. I'm sorry I even exist," she finished with a melancholy sigh.
"I've got it!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Honeycomb!" (Authors' Note: Okay, we lied)
"In chocolate milk!"
Alsatia had to laugh. In fact, she had to double over in laughter and fall to the floor.
Ron reached across the gap between the chairs and shook Harry's hand. "Now if only *we* could try it. Got any giraffes?"
*********
And so ends another ridiculous chapter of our flight of fancy. Reviews are asked for on bended knee. Preferably nice reviews.
Note from Hannah: Ha, ha! Told ya the time setting would make sense! Neener-neener! ::blows raspberry::
*********
Scully, in high spirits, after recovering from the previous night, bubbled, "Why I don't I drive this time, Mulder?"
Mystified, but bored with the dull surroundings, Mulder responded, "Sure, Scully. Whatever. As long as we get to the morgue, I'll be fine."
Scully clambered into the tiny British vehicle, and chipperly examined the car's various buttons and knobs. To her left was a tiny control panel that allowed her to move the automated seats backwards or forwards. Her seat was about a foot and half away from where she needed it to be, so she pressed the forward button just as Mulder was strapping himself into his seat.
Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr--
Mulder looked at his watch.
--iiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
"Sixty-five seconds, Scully. I'd call it missing time, but we knew where we were the whole time," Mulder cracked, looking up from his watch. Scully glared at him.
"I'm in a good mood," she said crossly, "so don't spoil it."
Mulder grinned at her as she pulled the car out of the parking lot.
*********
"*Yes,* Harry, but *why* would the giraffes want to *eat* the Lucky Charms?"
Snoring came from the armchair opposite Ron's.
"Although this is an enrapturing conversation," the black-haired girl began, "I hope you'll allow me to cut in."
"Harry, wake up."
[Snort, snort, snorrrre]
"Harry, *wake up*!"
"Huh? What? Oh. Sure. So...what's your name again, young lady?"
"Alsatia. Don't laugh," she said quickly.
Ron let out a quick snort, then excused it, "Sorry, nasal congestion. You understand."
"And why did you come here?" Harry prompted.
"I need your help. Well, I need to confess something." She took a deep breath, during which Ron interjected--
"But, Harry, the giraffes, I mean, really! Lucky Charms?"
"Ron! Shut up! The girl wants to say something!"
Under her breath, Alsatia muttered, "And to think this man could have been my father..." More loudly, she said, "I am Hermione Granger's daughter."
Much shocked gasping followed this.
Then there was a shocked silence, broken by "Ron, maybe they didn't eat *Lucky* Charms. Maybe Count Chocula."
"You're Hermione's daughter? *No.* Really?"
"Yes. Look, I have my birth certificate here," she dug it out and showed it to him, deliberately covering the part that said the name of her father.
"No kidding," Ron said faintly.
"Well, maybe not Count *Chocula,* but certainly Frosted Flakes."
"Who's your father, then? I'm assuming it's me until further notice."
"Or maybe Wheaties," Harry continued.
"Who were you going to say I was the spitting image of, before? Huh?"
"Or Cheerios. But it's really a stretch."
"I was going to say you look the spitting image of...son of a billy goat," he said, as he realized who her father was.
Harry snapped to attention. "What? What'd I miss?"
"Harry! This girl's dad is--"
"My father is--"
"Who's her father?!"
(Authors' Note: Could we drag this out a little longer?)
"What?!"
"My father is--"
"What?!"
(Authors' Note: Yeah, we could)
"Shut up, both of you! My father's name is--"
"Her father's name is--"
"Who is it? What?!"
"SNAPE! MY DAD'S SNAPE!"
There was an extremely long pause.
"Froot Loops, maybe..." Harry pondered. (Authors' Note: Okay, that was the last time)
"How?! Why?!" Ron paused to think about it. "He didn't--she didn't--EW!"
"It was rape," she said quietly. "Remember that trip she took to Africa? The sabbatical?"
"Oh my God..." Ron said. Harry echoed him, finally catching up to the conversation. Then Harry said,
"Ick."
"How could I not have known? How could--oh my God. She was my *wife.* My *love.*"
"Ew," said Harry, still thinking of how Alsatia had come to be.
"Where is Snape now? I'll kill the bastard."
"You can't. He's already dead. I killed him myself."
"How?"
"It was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."
"Tell us the whole story," Harry told her, for the first time since the beginning of his visit, awake. He'd spent the night at Ron's snoozing in that same armchair (*not* in the same bed as Ron, you dirty-minded people, you).
"Well. It all started when..."
*********
"So *why* are you in such a good mood today, Scully?" They were walking into the morgue.
"Because we're taking a little side trip today, Mulder. To a place that has nothing to do with magic," she answered, smiling brightly.
"*Where* are we going?"
If possible, her grin widened. "Oxford."
"What?! Oh, no. No, no, no," Mulder recoiled in horror. "No, no, no, no, no."
"Oh, yes. And I'm going to meet *all* your old friends. Especially the ones who called you..."
"Don't say it, don't say it."
"Fox."
"Ugh."
"Yup. Today's going to be a *good* day."
"Mr. Mulder? Miss Scully?" They'd reached the sign-in desk.
"Yes, hello."
"We saved that body for you. Although, frankly, we don't know what you're looking for. Just an old man who died in a trailer park."
"Well..."
"Here's where I leave you, Scully. I gotta go interview Elvis Malfoy. Have fun!" Before she could protest, Mulder had trotted off and taken the car.
"Miss Scully, about this autopsy report," the man behind the counter said.
"What about it?"
"The date. It was the right date--except for the year. You wrote the date for fifty years ago!"
"What? Let me see that." She seized the clipboard the was holding. "No, no--there must be some mistake. This is the right year." She looked doubtfully down at the paper.
The man gave her a funny look. "If you say so, Miss Scully." He gestured towards the examination room. "Go ahead, then." As she strode away, still looking confused, he muttered under his breath, "Americans are so odd..."
*********
(Authors' Note: Okay, we'll be nice and go back to Alsatia's story)
"Your wife--my mother--was on sabbatical in Africa. You knew that part. What you *didn't* know is that Snape," she said the name with disdain, "was also in Africa at the time. He'd followed her there. He'd gotten a bit--off--in his old age...well, he wasn't that old. In his sixties, really. Anyway. He'd followed her there for one purpose--I already told you what the purpose was. I don't know the specifics, except that he used the Imperius curse to make her do what he wanted, but he wound up raping her, and then running off.
"Hermione was very broken up about it, and quite understandably, too. She was staying at friend's in Africa--you knew that, too, I'm sure--and she went to her friend for support. That friend was the person who wound up raising me. Neville Longbottom?"
"*Neville*?" Ron was aghast. "No. Really? He never told us."
"Yes," she said mournfully. "He died last year. I was heartbroken."
Harry looked ashen. "Yes, we heard about the incident with the wayward butterly and the teddy bear. Neville...we've known him since forever."
"Yeah, poor old Neville. Don't you leave me, too, Harry!" (Authors' Note: Hannah wanted to add 'em all, but I refused)
"I won't, Ron."
"Neville was very dear to me," Alsatia continued, "he was like my father." Ron snickered at that. "But he was never very coordinated. If anyone could die that way, it was Neville. He left a letter for you two--said it was imperative you get it. Here." She dug a hand into her coat and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to Harry. "But to get back to the story: when I was about fifteen, I became obsessed with the idea of finding my family again. Neville warned me against it. He said I didn't want to split up my mother's family--I understood that part, even though it frustrated me--but I wanted to find my father. So I did. When I was old enough, when I was eighteen, I left home and went in search of him. Found him in a nursing home--of course--and he told me he didn't want me." Tears came to her eyes. "I already knew about how I'd come to be, but I thought that maybe there could possibly be some love there. But there wasn't."
Ron, overcome by emotion, stood up and made a very, very slow journey across the room to pat her on the back. Harry, during this time, took a lovely, refreshing nap. He woke up when Alsatia began to speak again. "I insisted that Snape loved me. It was ridiculous, I knew even then, but I so wanted to believe that my own father wouldn't abandon me. But when I persisted, he grew furious, and snagged my wand. He was advancing me, prepared to *kill* me--I grabbed it back, threw off his balance, and--well--he fell out a window.
"It seems ridiculous, I know, but it happened. I'm sorry the whole incident ever happened. I'm sorry I even went there. I'm sorry I even exist," she finished with a melancholy sigh.
"I've got it!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Honeycomb!" (Authors' Note: Okay, we lied)
"In chocolate milk!"
Alsatia had to laugh. In fact, she had to double over in laughter and fall to the floor.
Ron reached across the gap between the chairs and shook Harry's hand. "Now if only *we* could try it. Got any giraffes?"
*********
And so ends another ridiculous chapter of our flight of fancy. Reviews are asked for on bended knee. Preferably nice reviews.
Note from Hannah: Ha, ha! Told ya the time setting would make sense! Neener-neener! ::blows raspberry::