![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torino10154 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
firewhiskeyficTitle: Doe at Dusk
Author:kiertorata
I am of legal drinking age in my region: YAs
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: very obscurely implied Hermione/Snape
Challenge/Prompts used: ALL: Knockturn, Severus, Iceplay, Frostbite and Transfig in thtaorder I believe!
Summary: Severus Snape has been missing for a while.
Rating/Warnings: -
Word count: 815
Author's Notes (if any): I was thinking of a survival game I play and that got mixed into this at some point - maybe even enough to call this a HP x The Long Dark crossover, making it my frits crossover fic??
There were whisperes going around Knowkturn alley. Just flutters in the shadows, barely formed, unreal. (Like Dementors but with less sucking.)
They could be heard in The Wicked Witch, or in the Dragon (its wooden sign faded from the years), right past Diagon Alley, in the dodgy end where sewer-green potion waste ran in withering streams from the now-empty shop he had kept before he had disappeared.
Places Hermione had started to frequent during the last few weeks.
It ahd been a simple progression:
1. Wear a hooded cloak, do some simple Glamour charms, simple ebonugh to keep Skeeter and the other leeches away. A respectable Ministry employee couldn’t be seen downing pint after pint in a less-than-respectable pub, correct?
2. Forget about the cloak. Get sloppy with your Glamours. Bushy hair, recognizeable but for the blond color. Deside blond doesn’t work for you. Too loud. Too prone to comments from random patrons. Not that that matters in your current situation. Nothing has mattered, not for a while.
3. Forget Glamours. Forget anything. Tabloids, really, are a minor nuisance. The public won’t remember your for long, war-heroine or not. Minister’s assistant or not. Not. Not for long, at least. Not the way things are going.
Hermione ordered another spruce tip sour. It felt suitably exuberant, a contrast to her less-breezy existance within the stuffy constraints that were the office’s cream-colored walls. She sputtered something to the drunkard next to her, probably a comment about the drink. And then she heard it. A whisper.
“The shopkeeper from the 49th? He’s gone, yeah. And not voluntarily either, if you catch my drift. Head he put up quite the fightt. Cant say wha t happened to him, exactly. Btu that’sall I’ll say aobut it.It’s bad fr business talking about it.”
Hermione felt herself perk up. The drink felt less significant now, but she sipped the remainders anwyay, trying to piece togehter this new bit of information. And finally, once she had had a long think, she swung her cloak back onto her shoulders and exited the pub in a determined, if wobbly, stride.
*
Life really wasn’t very enjoyable.
Things were infinately more complex without a wand. Not that Severus habd"t experienced his fair share of near-death experiences during his miserable existence on this planet. Really, this was just your run-of-the mill torture with a little less Avada Kedavras being thrown around. It was his lizard brain waiving its little lizard hand (did lizards have hands?) to remind that it was time to fight for his life again and sense and logic were going to be of little use this time.
There was nothing even remotely logical about his circumstances.
He huddled closer to the cold earth, cursing at the little fire that was struggling to make it in the howling wind. It was currently his best chance at making it through the night.
The half-blood prince was nwo wholly grateful for his half-muggle heritage. He knew what matches where. It had been a bit of mad luck to come across them by the remnants of the a fire he had wandered by some hours ago.
He pulled his cloak coser but it did little to keep away the biting cold. When he had first awoekn, his arse had been freezing from a cold more deadly and unforgiving than he had ever experienced before. His first thought had illogically been that it was some iceplay gone awry –the thought right after that had been that if he ever survived to feel the warmth of a bed again, iceplay would be the last thing he would ever wnat. Severus Snape valued his sex life quite a bit, but if he could now choose, he would be happy to give up charmed icicles up his arse for forever for some warm soup and frostbite-healing potions.
The fire was picking up, but so was the wind. He positioned himself in a way to guard the flame, and for a moment, happened to look up.
In the blizzard he saw a figure. It could have been just an illusion, but it kept staring at him wit its large, round eyes, appearing alert yet calm, and adter a while Severus became convinded that the being he was looking at was real.
Lily...
No. Suddenly, hewas faced by bushy hair, and warmth as the figure transfigured in front of him into something much more human.
“Professor? We have to get you someplace warm,” a familiar obnocious, yet worried-sounding voice exclaimed. “Here, grab my hand.”
The voice sounded like it was simultaneously cominf frim nearby and somehwere far away. Severus felt like he was floating in a cotton-white dreamland, looking into a long tunnel. At the other end was the owner of the voice, distant and angelic.
“Granger?” Severus groaned. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Hush,” the voice said. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Author:
kiertorataI am of legal drinking age in my region: YAs
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: very obscurely implied Hermione/Snape
Challenge/Prompts used: ALL: Knockturn, Severus, Iceplay, Frostbite and Transfig in thtaorder I believe!
Summary: Severus Snape has been missing for a while.
Rating/Warnings: -
Word count: 815
Author's Notes (if any): I was thinking of a survival game I play and that got mixed into this at some point - maybe even enough to call this a HP x The Long Dark crossover, making it my frits crossover fic??
There were whisperes going around Knowkturn alley. Just flutters in the shadows, barely formed, unreal. (Like Dementors but with less sucking.)
They could be heard in The Wicked Witch, or in the Dragon (its wooden sign faded from the years), right past Diagon Alley, in the dodgy end where sewer-green potion waste ran in withering streams from the now-empty shop he had kept before he had disappeared.
Places Hermione had started to frequent during the last few weeks.
It ahd been a simple progression:
1. Wear a hooded cloak, do some simple Glamour charms, simple ebonugh to keep Skeeter and the other leeches away. A respectable Ministry employee couldn’t be seen downing pint after pint in a less-than-respectable pub, correct?
2. Forget about the cloak. Get sloppy with your Glamours. Bushy hair, recognizeable but for the blond color. Deside blond doesn’t work for you. Too loud. Too prone to comments from random patrons. Not that that matters in your current situation. Nothing has mattered, not for a while.
3. Forget Glamours. Forget anything. Tabloids, really, are a minor nuisance. The public won’t remember your for long, war-heroine or not. Minister’s assistant or not. Not. Not for long, at least. Not the way things are going.
Hermione ordered another spruce tip sour. It felt suitably exuberant, a contrast to her less-breezy existance within the stuffy constraints that were the office’s cream-colored walls. She sputtered something to the drunkard next to her, probably a comment about the drink. And then she heard it. A whisper.
“The shopkeeper from the 49th? He’s gone, yeah. And not voluntarily either, if you catch my drift. Head he put up quite the fightt. Cant say wha t happened to him, exactly. Btu that’sall I’ll say aobut it.It’s bad fr business talking about it.”
Hermione felt herself perk up. The drink felt less significant now, but she sipped the remainders anwyay, trying to piece togehter this new bit of information. And finally, once she had had a long think, she swung her cloak back onto her shoulders and exited the pub in a determined, if wobbly, stride.
*
Life really wasn’t very enjoyable.
Things were infinately more complex without a wand. Not that Severus habd"t experienced his fair share of near-death experiences during his miserable existence on this planet. Really, this was just your run-of-the mill torture with a little less Avada Kedavras being thrown around. It was his lizard brain waiving its little lizard hand (did lizards have hands?) to remind that it was time to fight for his life again and sense and logic were going to be of little use this time.
There was nothing even remotely logical about his circumstances.
He huddled closer to the cold earth, cursing at the little fire that was struggling to make it in the howling wind. It was currently his best chance at making it through the night.
The half-blood prince was nwo wholly grateful for his half-muggle heritage. He knew what matches where. It had been a bit of mad luck to come across them by the remnants of the a fire he had wandered by some hours ago.
He pulled his cloak coser but it did little to keep away the biting cold. When he had first awoekn, his arse had been freezing from a cold more deadly and unforgiving than he had ever experienced before. His first thought had illogically been that it was some iceplay gone awry –the thought right after that had been that if he ever survived to feel the warmth of a bed again, iceplay would be the last thing he would ever wnat. Severus Snape valued his sex life quite a bit, but if he could now choose, he would be happy to give up charmed icicles up his arse for forever for some warm soup and frostbite-healing potions.
The fire was picking up, but so was the wind. He positioned himself in a way to guard the flame, and for a moment, happened to look up.
In the blizzard he saw a figure. It could have been just an illusion, but it kept staring at him wit its large, round eyes, appearing alert yet calm, and adter a while Severus became convinded that the being he was looking at was real.
Lily...
No. Suddenly, hewas faced by bushy hair, and warmth as the figure transfigured in front of him into something much more human.
“Professor? We have to get you someplace warm,” a familiar obnocious, yet worried-sounding voice exclaimed. “Here, grab my hand.”
The voice sounded like it was simultaneously cominf frim nearby and somehwere far away. Severus felt like he was floating in a cotton-white dreamland, looking into a long tunnel. At the other end was the owner of the voice, distant and angelic.
“Granger?” Severus groaned. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Hush,” the voice said. “I’ll explain everything later.”
no subject
Date: 2020-02-03 10:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-04 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-06 05:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-02-06 08:03 pm (UTC)