averygoodun42 (
averygoodun42) wrote2008-03-27 04:44 pm
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Entry tags:
Thank you drabble(s) for
duniazade
Title: The Prince's Wood
Rating so far: PG
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Word count: 100 x 12
Notes: DH disregarded.
AN: This is almost certainly only part one, but I've run out of time and energy to write further on it today, and I think it can stand on its own as it is. I hope. Anyway, it comes from
duniazade's request for something involving "The Prince's Wood" which was terribly appropriate. ;-)
The wind wound its way around the trees, humming with the energy.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked timidly, darting a brief glance at the tall man holding her arm in a vice-like grip.
"The Prince's Wood."
She frowned, thinking hard. "This isn't England."
Another quick glance revealed his lip curling up in a grim smile. "No, it isn't."
She shivered, wondering what her fate would be, but not daring to ask. Something was tickling her brain, though. The Prince's Wood...
She gasped in realization. "Is this your land?"
Snape's slow, cold smile froze all her hopes.
"Yes," he said.
~8~
Hermione hadn't had time to research Snape more thoroughly than to find out about Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. There had been more important matters to look into, like spells that would keep her and the boys alive on the Horcrux hunt.
She hadn't seen the point of wasting her time on the likes of Snape. His family history was inconsequential to their success.
But now that he was half-dragging her through woods in some strange, foreign land, intent on who-knew-what, she began to think that maybe she could have spared a few minutes here or there.
~8~
When they came to a small, decrepit looking castle, she shuddered with fear. His grip on her arm tightened further, and she didn't dare resist. He had broken her wand. He was much stronger than she was. She had nothing to defend herself but her wits, and although they screamed at her not to go into the ruins, she couldn't see any way to escape.
He pointed his wand at a large, half-rotted oak door and pulled her through as it groaned open. As soon as they were inside, he slammed the door shut, encasing them in the dark.
~8~
Water dripped somewhere close by, and the smell of decay was overwhelming. Hermione heard a rustle from above, and for a split second was afraid that Snape really was a vampire. The next second, Snape lit his wand, revealing a dank, stone foyer.
"This way," he muttered, pushing her toward a narrow hallway. She wasn't expecting the shove and nearly fell, but he caught her arm just in time. "Be more careful," he snapped.
She bit back angry words and started walking, feeling her way forward. With each slow step, she felt like she was walking closer to her doom.
~8~
It seemed to take forever, but eventually they reached another oak door. She stopped and looked back at Snape, shuddering at the way the wandlight held so high cast his face into a grotesque caricature of himself. She felt his gaze, but couldn't see his eyes. He made an impatient motion with his chin, demanding she turn and open the door.
Closing her eyes, Hermione turned and reached out for the handle. She let her hand rest upon it, feeling the texture and shape of the wrought iron. It was colder than her hand, which was only fitting, she thought.
~8~
She pulled at the door uselessly until a quiet, "Push," from behind corrected her. Without thinking about it, she muttered, "Ah, the devil's still at work in the world."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she froze, waiting for retribution. She was shocked when he only chuckled as he crept up against her back and reached his arm out over her, to push at the unlatched door.
"So it would seem, Hermione."
The door swung open noiselessly, but Hermione didn't see. The heat of his body was bombarding her as his robes brushed against her backside.
~8~
Welcome to your new home, Hermione, his silky voice said in her mind. Her eyes popped open and with barely a glance at the lush room beyond, she turned to face Snape, who was glowering at her impatiently.
"Well?" he asked.
She continued looking at him until he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, forcing her to march into the surprisingly cozy - and clean - room.
He shut and warded the door with a flick of his wand. Hermione looked around, keeping an eye open for a way out.
"Why have you brought me here?" she asked.
~8~
She was surprised when, in a gentlemanly manner, he gestured for her to sit. She tentatively sat in a comfortable looking chair by the fire. As soon as she was seated he nodded and sat down in the chair's mate across the hearth from her.
He flicked his wand in an almost careless manner and suddenly Hermione found herself under a gloriously warm duvet. She cautiously snuggled into it, keeping a watchful eye on Snape. He watched her with sardonic amusement, never taking his eyes off of her.
When she was comfortable he said, "I was sent to kill you."
~8~
Before she could even begin to react, he had put a Full Body-Bind hex on her.
"The Dark Lord wants you dead. He thinks that by killing you or Weasley, he will render Potter impotent with grief. As a Muggle-born, you became the obvious target, as you have no worth and no place in the Wizarding world."
Snape's words sank into Hermione like lead into water. She wished she could close her eyes or look away.
"I, however, think differently." He got up and brushed her cheek lightly with his knuckle. "I see no reason for such waste."
~8~
Hermione felt the bottom of her world drop away as she swiveled her eyes up, trying to see what Snape could be thinking, though fearing what she might find. All she could see, though, was an expanse of black as he loomed over her.
He withdrew his hand suddenly and returned to his seat, looking at her with cold calculation.
"The Dark Lord is quite determined that you should die. I am quite determined that you shall not. You will be quite safe in this place. It is secret kept, and I am the only one who knows the secret."
~8~
Hermione listened dully as he outlined the features of the room. He pointed to one corner and said there was a bed. He pointed to another corner that held the washing facilities. He directed her eyes to a spot behind him where the kitchenette lay. The pantry would be restocked every week.
With a hint of pride in his otherwise emotionless voice, he told her that the place came with a house-elf who would provide whatever she wished for, barring things that could either help her "leave" or were deemed unsafe.
"You will be safe here," he assured her.
~8~
He didn't stay for much longer, as there was little more for him to say. She doubted that even he would be terribly comfortable sitting across from her immobile form for very long.
He didn't unbind her until he was halfway out the door. She didn't know whether to be flattered or relieved. He hadn't touched her again, and he hadn't made any allusions to touching her in the future, but she still felt uneasy about his motivations.
She was his prisoner, after all.
When he had been gone for fifteen minutes, she finally let down her guard and cried.
Part Two
Rating so far: PG
Genre: Drama/Suspense
Word count: 100 x 12
Notes: DH disregarded.
AN: This is almost certainly only part one, but I've run out of time and energy to write further on it today, and I think it can stand on its own as it is. I hope. Anyway, it comes from
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The wind wound its way around the trees, humming with the energy.
"Where are we?" Hermione asked timidly, darting a brief glance at the tall man holding her arm in a vice-like grip.
"The Prince's Wood."
She frowned, thinking hard. "This isn't England."
Another quick glance revealed his lip curling up in a grim smile. "No, it isn't."
She shivered, wondering what her fate would be, but not daring to ask. Something was tickling her brain, though. The Prince's Wood...
She gasped in realization. "Is this your land?"
Snape's slow, cold smile froze all her hopes.
"Yes," he said.
Hermione hadn't had time to research Snape more thoroughly than to find out about Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. There had been more important matters to look into, like spells that would keep her and the boys alive on the Horcrux hunt.
She hadn't seen the point of wasting her time on the likes of Snape. His family history was inconsequential to their success.
But now that he was half-dragging her through woods in some strange, foreign land, intent on who-knew-what, she began to think that maybe she could have spared a few minutes here or there.
When they came to a small, decrepit looking castle, she shuddered with fear. His grip on her arm tightened further, and she didn't dare resist. He had broken her wand. He was much stronger than she was. She had nothing to defend herself but her wits, and although they screamed at her not to go into the ruins, she couldn't see any way to escape.
He pointed his wand at a large, half-rotted oak door and pulled her through as it groaned open. As soon as they were inside, he slammed the door shut, encasing them in the dark.
Water dripped somewhere close by, and the smell of decay was overwhelming. Hermione heard a rustle from above, and for a split second was afraid that Snape really was a vampire. The next second, Snape lit his wand, revealing a dank, stone foyer.
"This way," he muttered, pushing her toward a narrow hallway. She wasn't expecting the shove and nearly fell, but he caught her arm just in time. "Be more careful," he snapped.
She bit back angry words and started walking, feeling her way forward. With each slow step, she felt like she was walking closer to her doom.
It seemed to take forever, but eventually they reached another oak door. She stopped and looked back at Snape, shuddering at the way the wandlight held so high cast his face into a grotesque caricature of himself. She felt his gaze, but couldn't see his eyes. He made an impatient motion with his chin, demanding she turn and open the door.
Closing her eyes, Hermione turned and reached out for the handle. She let her hand rest upon it, feeling the texture and shape of the wrought iron. It was colder than her hand, which was only fitting, she thought.
She pulled at the door uselessly until a quiet, "Push," from behind corrected her. Without thinking about it, she muttered, "Ah, the devil's still at work in the world."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she froze, waiting for retribution. She was shocked when he only chuckled as he crept up against her back and reached his arm out over her, to push at the unlatched door.
"So it would seem, Hermione."
The door swung open noiselessly, but Hermione didn't see. The heat of his body was bombarding her as his robes brushed against her backside.
Welcome to your new home, Hermione, his silky voice said in her mind. Her eyes popped open and with barely a glance at the lush room beyond, she turned to face Snape, who was glowering at her impatiently.
"Well?" he asked.
She continued looking at him until he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, forcing her to march into the surprisingly cozy - and clean - room.
He shut and warded the door with a flick of his wand. Hermione looked around, keeping an eye open for a way out.
"Why have you brought me here?" she asked.
She was surprised when, in a gentlemanly manner, he gestured for her to sit. She tentatively sat in a comfortable looking chair by the fire. As soon as she was seated he nodded and sat down in the chair's mate across the hearth from her.
He flicked his wand in an almost careless manner and suddenly Hermione found herself under a gloriously warm duvet. She cautiously snuggled into it, keeping a watchful eye on Snape. He watched her with sardonic amusement, never taking his eyes off of her.
When she was comfortable he said, "I was sent to kill you."
Before she could even begin to react, he had put a Full Body-Bind hex on her.
"The Dark Lord wants you dead. He thinks that by killing you or Weasley, he will render Potter impotent with grief. As a Muggle-born, you became the obvious target, as you have no worth and no place in the Wizarding world."
Snape's words sank into Hermione like lead into water. She wished she could close her eyes or look away.
"I, however, think differently." He got up and brushed her cheek lightly with his knuckle. "I see no reason for such waste."
Hermione felt the bottom of her world drop away as she swiveled her eyes up, trying to see what Snape could be thinking, though fearing what she might find. All she could see, though, was an expanse of black as he loomed over her.
He withdrew his hand suddenly and returned to his seat, looking at her with cold calculation.
"The Dark Lord is quite determined that you should die. I am quite determined that you shall not. You will be quite safe in this place. It is secret kept, and I am the only one who knows the secret."
Hermione listened dully as he outlined the features of the room. He pointed to one corner and said there was a bed. He pointed to another corner that held the washing facilities. He directed her eyes to a spot behind him where the kitchenette lay. The pantry would be restocked every week.
With a hint of pride in his otherwise emotionless voice, he told her that the place came with a house-elf who would provide whatever she wished for, barring things that could either help her "leave" or were deemed unsafe.
"You will be safe here," he assured her.
He didn't stay for much longer, as there was little more for him to say. She doubted that even he would be terribly comfortable sitting across from her immobile form for very long.
He didn't unbind her until he was halfway out the door. She didn't know whether to be flattered or relieved. He hadn't touched her again, and he hadn't made any allusions to touching her in the future, but she still felt uneasy about his motivations.
She was his prisoner, after all.
When he had been gone for fifteen minutes, she finally let down her guard and cried.
Part Two
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Love Sonia :)
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My sense of the absurd is vast - Romanians have invented the absurd comedy, after all, or so we like to think - so have at it!
May I direct people here, or do you want to wait until it's completed?
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Sure, you can direct people here, although when it is finished, I think I'll either rewrite it into normal prose form or post it on grangersnape.
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Ta!
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Do you mind if I friend you?
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By all means! I assume I may friend you back?
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I have no set expectations here. This could as easily be dark as romantic, which is part of what makes it such an intriguing start. I'm generally less interested in stories where the ending is obvious.
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SInce I'm a fan of romantic comedies, I place much less importance on the ending than on the story inbetween. When reading (or watching), anyway. Writing is slightly different...
Not that this is going to be a romantic comedy, mind!
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