lions_roar (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} lions_roar) wrote,@ 2009-05-16 11:04:00 |
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| Entry tags: | genre: alternate universe, genre: drama, harry potter fanfiction, rating: t |
Fic: Discord in the Garden, Prologue
Title: Discord in the Garden
Author:
lions_roar Rating: Pg-13 (Rating may change for descriptions)
Characters/Pairing: Hermione Granger and Severus Snape (Mentions of everyone else)
Summary: At the fall of Voldemort, there was peace; but history has proven that peace shall never last. A Dementor's kiss, a long laid plan, a potions, and a threat.
Warning: I am new to Harry Potter and fan fiction alike, this will be my first attempt at both, I hope you find it satisfactory. I would like to warn you that this is in no way compliant to HBP or DH, the plot formed when I was finished reading book five; therefore, it is AU.
Discord in the Garden
Prologue
Beyond the Veil
x.x
Prologue
Beyond the Veil
x.x
There was dissension in the Ministry; it seeped with careful persuasiveness through the bricks and magical mortar, through each room of each department; spiraling carefully downward, tainting the senses of each wizard and witch with faint unease. It halted routine meetings, spurred reactionary councils, and spread its tendrils with ease until even They were forced to take heed of it.
It was the benign, ingrained feeling that all was not right. It was the dark cloud that could not be seen, but could be felt, the knowledge of it thick enough to grasp in one’s hands like draining sand.
They watched as the mere slip of a woman walked deliberately through the fog, her eyes focused forward and landing on no one, looking for only one. They watched as she drifted past the old man with his dulled, twinkling blue eyes. They were stunned as she turned her chin away from the sharp features of a diminished threat. They sighed as she refused to falter at the shocked call of a friend. They followed, all unashamedly curious, as she stalked through the lost and fallen until she finally halted at the curved figure of a lean man, a pale man, a man with the only pair of eyes that refused to give her attention for being among their numbers.
“You must come with me.” She spoke, and they felt the foreboding tendrils radiate from her wobbling words.
Long fingers wrapped around nothing but air, the knuckles white and blunt nails nipping at skin that long ago perished. “Your skill of reasoning has diminished in your years of living, girl,” the insult was a whisper, yet it carried sharply to each of Their ears.
They awaited her response.
“Do you chose to remain here then, Sir, until your name disappears from society? Until the books no longer carry your face or your doings or your virtue? Until there is no society for you to return to? ”
“I have no time for your questions.” His dark eyes were sharp, yet not focused on her.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid it is I who has no time for your refusal; I have looked for you for too long for me to allow you to remain here."
“What I do in my death is of no concern of yours.”
The sound of laughter, so foreign among the land of whispers, echoed and enveloped Them until the discord settled again. “It has only been six years, surely you haven’t forgotten. You are not dead. They made a mistake, I know that now. And I know that you can feel it, all of you can. Voldemort is gone, but his terror was nothing compared to this. You must come with me now.”
He sneered, his black gaze attempting to pin her to place, to make her feel the idiot, “And how do you propose I do that, Granger?”
Brown eyes regarded him, sized him, and thereby proved him small. “I have your body, Snape, and with it, I have the potion. Surely you know of which one I speak.” Jarringly, she extended a hand, fingers stretched and palm up.
The sneer vanished, and his eyes sharply searched hers.
They watched, each of them, has he gripped her extended hand far too tightly and allowed her to pull him upright. “I will owe you nothing.”
And with kindness he had never received before, she uttered, “I believe it is I who is indebted to you."
It was the benign, ingrained feeling that all was not right. It was the dark cloud that could not be seen, but could be felt, the knowledge of it thick enough to grasp in one’s hands like draining sand.
They watched as the mere slip of a woman walked deliberately through the fog, her eyes focused forward and landing on no one, looking for only one. They watched as she drifted past the old man with his dulled, twinkling blue eyes. They were stunned as she turned her chin away from the sharp features of a diminished threat. They sighed as she refused to falter at the shocked call of a friend. They followed, all unashamedly curious, as she stalked through the lost and fallen until she finally halted at the curved figure of a lean man, a pale man, a man with the only pair of eyes that refused to give her attention for being among their numbers.
“You must come with me.” She spoke, and they felt the foreboding tendrils radiate from her wobbling words.
Long fingers wrapped around nothing but air, the knuckles white and blunt nails nipping at skin that long ago perished. “Your skill of reasoning has diminished in your years of living, girl,” the insult was a whisper, yet it carried sharply to each of Their ears.
They awaited her response.
“Do you chose to remain here then, Sir, until your name disappears from society? Until the books no longer carry your face or your doings or your virtue? Until there is no society for you to return to? ”
“I have no time for your questions.” His dark eyes were sharp, yet not focused on her.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid it is I who has no time for your refusal; I have looked for you for too long for me to allow you to remain here."
“What I do in my death is of no concern of yours.”
The sound of laughter, so foreign among the land of whispers, echoed and enveloped Them until the discord settled again. “It has only been six years, surely you haven’t forgotten. You are not dead. They made a mistake, I know that now. And I know that you can feel it, all of you can. Voldemort is gone, but his terror was nothing compared to this. You must come with me now.”
He sneered, his black gaze attempting to pin her to place, to make her feel the idiot, “And how do you propose I do that, Granger?”
Brown eyes regarded him, sized him, and thereby proved him small. “I have your body, Snape, and with it, I have the potion. Surely you know of which one I speak.” Jarringly, she extended a hand, fingers stretched and palm up.
The sneer vanished, and his eyes sharply searched hers.
They watched, each of them, has he gripped her extended hand far too tightly and allowed her to pull him upright. “I will owe you nothing.”
And with kindness he had never received before, she uttered, “I believe it is I who is indebted to you."
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