Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

A Drop in the Ocean	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 3498 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer:� Harry Potter and his universe are not
mine.� They are all the property of JK
Rowling, with the exception of my original characters.

IMPORTANT Author�s Note:� This fic is in no
way OoTP or HBP compliant; it was started before
either book came out.� Obviously this
means that none of it meshes with canon beyond GoF.� There is no Order of the Phoenix and characters that appear past book 4 will most
likely not be present (but I�m leaving that door open just in case). �I�ve played with some characters, namely Flitwick, Fudge, and Fletcher.� Flitwick is shown
in the movies as a gnome-like thing but I never got that impression from the
books, so I decided to make him a regular, if slight, man.� Fudge is usually portrayed as incompetent and
mostly harmless; I prefer to give a darker, less favorable impression of him. �As for Fletcher, I don�t quite know why I put
him in (it�s only for one sentence), but it was before his rather shady
character was explained in OoTP, so my Fletcher is
quite different. �I suppose all of this
could qualify my fic as an AU�I consider it my
version of fifth year.� This has been
posted on ff.net since its start, but I�m posting a minorly
edited version here.� Not edited in the
sense of taming it down, edited in the sense of polishing it and making it
better.�

A
sleek black car sped by, betrayed only by the quick glint of a streetlamp
against its polished finish.� It was
obvious that its occupant cared nothing for the speed limit.� Out here, where there was nothing but
wilderness on either side of the two-lane road, it was relatively high �
seventy or so.� But the black coupe
seemed to be going almost double that.�
The car left a cloud of dry dust and dead grass lingering in the
Indian-summer air behind it.

�� The volume of the stereo within was such that it would cause
an immediate complaint from anyone over the age of forty.� The choice of music was, to say the least,
eclectic.� But all in all, the car � its
speed, color, volume, and intimidation factor � seemed to mesh well with the
driver.

�� She was skinny but full, muscled but not so much as to
seem masculine.� Her skin was flawless
and tinged with bronze, thanks both to genetics and a good amount of time in
the sun.� Her features were pleasing in
an Eastern European sort of way; angled, dark, half-exotic. �Generally, though, what captivated people most
was her hair � it was the deepest, darkest black, so black it seemed blue under
the right lighting, and thick, curling very slightly in all the right places.� Right now, it was pulled back into a loose,
sloppy, and thoroughly attractive braid that sat over her right shoulder like a
length of rope.� She was enchanting, or
so her ex-boyfriends had always told her.

�� They weren�t far from the truth.

�� She was a bartender, reputed to be the best south of Moscow.� So good, in fact, that she really only worked on holidays and
during the summer.� She�d read
magazine articles about herself � all of them cited her �sixth sense�, her
ability to give a person exactly what they wanted the most within the confines
of a glass.� And, of course, her mystery
ingredient; it had at one time aroused suspicion, but now that everyone saw
that it was harmless, it was her legacy.�
It was simple, really.� The
mystery ingredient was what made each drink taste exactly how the consumer
liked it.� Though the Russians were not
difficult to figure out; for most of them, plain vodka was fine.� She chuckled to herself, not even hearing the
small expression of mirth over the stereo.�
Every bartender could use a good lesson in Potions.

�� It wasn�t her talent with alcohol that made the people
love her so much, though.� It was her
generosity with money.� She could easily
wind up with a thousand dollars stuffed in her bra in the course of one night,
if the right people were present and properly inebriated.� But she took only what she needed to pay her
bills; she lived in the same dingy, run down flats that everyone else did.� The only luxuries she�d afforded herself were
this car and her cell phone.� She gave
all the excess to the hospitals or schools.�
They needed it much more than she did.

�� She was a star of sorts.�
People always eyed her with awe and reverence when she stood in the
lines with them, waiting for whatever the authorities had been able to secure a
large shipment of.� And often, even then,
after two hours in the line in heat so thick that not even the mosquitoes
ventured out, she wound up giving that commodity away to the single mother with
six children to care for, or the old man who was utterly alone and too crippled
to get out to do proper shopping.� They always wanted her to keep it, but she
turned them down gently, knowing that their need was greater.� Besides, if she really needed it, she had a
wand.

�� Admittedly, this selfless behavior generated a bit more
attention than she was comfortable with.�
Cameras were often catching her at very unflattering moments, and the
tabloid headlines became more and more outrageous.� She remembered once laughing out loud at a
particularly bawdy cover � a fuzzy picture of her staring into space with a
pair of white wings very obviously pasted to it, the headline screaming:
�GALINA DMITROV, ANGEL IN DISGUISE!!!��
And then the next week, the same tabloid, declaring boldly on its cover:
�GALINA � SPY FOR THE KGB!!!�� Ah yes,
and nothing topped the offer extended to her by a rather reputable, if not
sleazy magazine � twelve pages of her nude, and a centerfold featuring her
doing some blushworthy things with a hammer and
sickle.

�� She had actually considered it, simply because she knew
it would annoy the piss out of her brother.�
But in the end she�d turned them down, not entirely comfortable with the
thought of thousands of men staring wantonly at her naked body.� She�d done smaller jobs though, modeling for
cosmetics or hair-care companies.� Even
those brief appearances, once they reached him, earned her a few of the
quietest, deadliest, and by far most amusing Howlers she�d ever received.

�� She knew she shouldn�t taunt him like that, but she hated
when he was so overprotective.� She was
the older of the two, albeit only by a few minutes, but that still made her the
one in charge.� She had always been the
protector, and she wasn�t about to burden her brother with worry over yet
another person.� No, if there was one
thing he didn�t need, it was to be preoccupied with stress over his sister�s
safety.� Still, he always made her prove
herself.� And every time she went to
visit, she kicked his ass.� In the most loving way possible, of course.� Although, lately, she was getting the feeling
that he was letting her win.

�� That was where she was headed now.� She didn�t know what had possessed her to
drive all the way to the border.� An
airplane � hell, apparating � would get her there
much faster.� But she loved her car, and
it rarely got a good workout.� And it
would give her time to think.

�� She sighed, glancing at her gas gauge.� She�d have to stop soon and fill it up.� The fluorescent green of a faded sign caught
her eye, and she hit the brake for the exit.�
There might not be another for miles, so she was inclined to take
advantage of this sudden arrival of civilization.

�� Galina sighed as she pulled
into a badly lit gas station.� A turbaned
Sikh man smiled lazily at her, waving his hand to indicate that it was
self-serve.� She smiled back, staggering
a little as she unfolded herself from the driver�s seat.� A good stretch was in order, and by the time
she was finished, the Sikh had ambled over and engaged her in conversation.

�� This is a very nice car,� he said in the local dialect,
a random concoction of Russian and Arabic.

�� Yes,� she answered.�
�The object of my affections.�

�� Pity for all the men out there.�

�� She laughed, tossing her braid behind her and bending to
pump the gas.

�� Perhaps there is room for one of them in here, too,� she
replied, tapping just under her left collarbone.� The man smiled and chuckled, folding his
arms, yet another victim to Galina Dmitrov�s charm.

�� Do you need anything else?� he asked.� �Windshield wash, oil, air,
cigarettes?�

�� No, thank you,� she said, replacing the gas pump and
then tending to the car.� �But I do
appreciate it.�

�� Any time,� he nodded.

�� Here you go,� she said, handing over a crumpled handful
of money.� She slipped back into the car
and started it, gunning the engine briefly and smiling to herself as she
noticed the man�s shocked reaction in the rearview mirror.� She had given him about ten times what she
owed.

�� She put it in drive and pulled away, waiting patiently in
the driveway for a creaky, plodding truck to go by.� She was about to slam her foot onto the
accelerator when there was a flash of unmistakable green light and two words
that chilled her blood reached her ears.

�� �Avada kedavra!�

�� She tilted the rearview mirror, her heart pounding.� The Sikh man was on the ground, supine and
unmoving.� She knew she should just drive
away.� But, as it had many times before
in such circumstances, her anger got the better of her.

�� Galina slammed the car into
park and turned it off.� She kicked open
the door, procuring her wand seemingly out of thin air.� The scowl on her face made her look decidedly
menacing as she made her way to the dead man.�
She bent at the knee, taking his pulse without looking at him.� Nothing.� Of course there was nothing � the killing
curse never failed.� Her hand clenched
around her wand.� She had feared this for
a long time.� Being so far removed from
the magical world gave the illusion of safety, but she knew as long as the Dark
Lord Voldemort lived, there was no such thing.

�� Come out, Death Eater!� she called acidly,
standing.� �Or are you afraid to show
yourself without your Master?�

�� No,� the answer came from behind her.� �But I must regain my Master�s good graces,
and you, dear Selena, are my trump card.�

�� She whirled, and instantly her anger inflated another
notch.

�� Igor Karkaroff, you bloody coward!� she practically
screamed.� �That is not my name out here,
and I will thank you not to use it.�

�� Ashamed?� he sneered.

�� No.� In one world I
have one name, and in the other, a different one.�

�� Why do you hide in the world of Muggles,
Selena?�

�� Don�t press me, Karkaroff,� she warned darkly.� �You know why I do what I do.� Don�t pretend otherwise.�

�� I pretend nothing, Selena.� Did you think we wouldn�t find you out here?�

�� You FOOL!� she cried, tense with frustration.� �Voldemort won�t
forgive you for deserting no matter what you do.� Frankly, I�m amazed you�re still alive!�

�� How dare you use the Master�s name with such impudence!�
the Death Eater roared.� His eyes sparked
with an insanity she had seen too many times.

�� How dare you kill innocent men for sport!� she returned.

�� They raised their wands at the exact same moment.

�� This is pointless, Karkaroff.� Snap out of it.� Unless you get help, you�re a dead man.�

�� The Death Eater growled, his eyes becoming wilder.

�� You know I�m right!� she continued.� Her heart was beating wildly, hammering
against her ribcage.� If she could just
talk him out of this�

�� You speak poison, just like your brother!� he
snarled.� �I know what he is, Selena, and
what he�s doing.�

�� Voldemort will not believe a
word you say.� This campaign for revenge
will gain you nothing but a more painful death!�

�� If I must die,� Karkaroff said, brandishing his wand,
�then I will at least have the pleasure of destroying your bloodline first!�

�� And, with that, the battle of spells began.

�� �Stupefy!�

�� But she had already apparated
by the time the white bolt reached the place where she had been standing.

�� Karkaroff spent only a moment cursing fluently in as many
languages as he knew.� In mid-sentence an
idea came to him, a perfectly ingenious plan that would not involve him
sticking his neck out at all.� In a
second he, too, apparated, leaving the dreary gas
station and its deceased owner in an uneasy peace.

�� Far, far away, Lucius Malfoy nearly fell out of his chair
when Karkaroff appeared on his desk.�

�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *

�� Galina � well, she supposed she
could properly call herself Selena now, as she was far from the world of Muggles � appeared in a soggy moor, shivering
instantly.� She was not at all dressed
for the cooler climate of Britain.� Stupid, bloody Karkaroff.

�� Putting him out of her mind for the moment, she raised
her wand and performed a directional spell.�
Hmm�she was about two hours south of Hogwarts.� Two hours easily covered in a drastically
different form.

�� Where there had been a woman, there was now a
panther.� Black, sleek,
beautiful, with deep brown eyes.�
It had been a long time since she had indulged this area of her abilities,
and it felt positively wonderful to open up to a full sprint on the soggy
grasslands that stretched before her.

�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *

�� As she emerged from the Forbidden Forest, she reclaimed her human form.� She
did not notice the cool air now, as her body was warmed by the long run.� She walked casually, a smile curling her lips
as she thought of the incredible food and drink that would be waiting in the
Great Hall.� It had been nearly eight
hours since she last ate�

�� There was a barely audible rustle.� It snapped her out of her thoughts and her
muscles tensed automatically.� Christ,
had Karkaroff followed her here?� It was
a very stupid thing to do�

�� She caught a movement with the corner of her eye.� She nearly forgot to breathe.� Something was out here.� Her pace doubled, becoming a run.� If she reached the doors, she would be
fine.� The doors�in these times, would
they be unlocked?

�� A black, man-sized obstacle sprung into her path, so
suddenly that she lost her footing when she tried to avoid it.� She tried to get up, but bony hands held her
down by her shoulders.� She tried kicking
but couldn�t seem to hit anything, and as she struggled, her eyes caught sight
of the hands that pressed her so painfully to the dewy grass.� Grey.� Slimy.� Scabby.� Rotten skin
stretched thinly over bone.

�� Dementor�!!!

�� She could not help but scream as it pushed back its
hood.� It leaned low, ignoring her
struggling, its hole of a mouth opening�

�� At the last second, she became a panther again.� She clawed at it savagely, knocking off its
head and darting away as fast as she could.�
But not fast enough to avoid the claws of the beheaded Dementor, which sunk deeply into her flank before she
escaped its grasp.

�� She didn�t even feel it.�
There were more of them now, swooping down onto the wide lawn, coming at
her from all sides.� She ran as fast as
she could, darting around, under, even through the monsters.� The doors were in sight, oh gods, the
doors!!!

�� The black streak covered the rest of the lawn, the Dementors following like a flood of decay.� Up the stairs, to the great wooden
doors�!� She clawed frantically at the
wood, leaving deep score marks.� They did
not give way, even when she threw herself against them.�

�� Someone, someone help!�
Open the door!�

�� The panther tilted its head up and let out a roar, and
unmistakable sound somewhere between the deep rumble of a lion and the screech
of a wolverine.

�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *�� *

�� I�m sooo hungry�� Ron
whined, staring pathetically at his plate.

�� I hope Dumbledore has no exciting announcements to
spring on us this year,� Harry said, frowning.�
�I couldn�t stand it if I had to go another year without Quidditch.�

�� We�ll be lucky if we have Quidditch
at all this year, what with You-Know-Who,� Fred Weasley
said miserably.

�� Harry frowned intensely, tuning himself out of the conversation.� He never could help the feeling that this was
all his fault, regardless of whether his friends said
it out loud or not.� He knew Fred hadn�t
meant anything, but the stab of guilt flared up anyway.� He sighed, turning his gaze to Hermione.� Strangely enough, she was staring up at the
Teacher�s table, her brows slightly drawn.�
He thought for a moment that she was trying to find the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but after following her gaze,
he realized that she was staring at Professor Snape.� Severus Snape, the least popular man at
Hogwarts, if you didn�t include the Slytherins in the
polling.

�� He looks tired, doesn�t he,� she said, aware of Harry�s
appraisal.� �Like a gust of wind could
knock him over.�

�� If only,� Harry muttered.� Hermione gave him a sharp look.

�� You know what he�s been doing since June,� she
said.� �It can�t be easy.�

�� No, but that doesn�t make me feel sorry for him.� And I�m willing to bet that it won�t make him
go any easier on us.�

�� Hermione shook her head, her posture slumping slightly.

�� I wonder what made him become a Death Eater in the first
place.�

�� I don�t know, but it�s his own
fault.�

�� You don�t know that,� she said.

�� Since when do you care about Snape�s
welfare?� Harry asked, giving in to his annoyance.� �Don�t you remember what he said to you last
year, when Malfoy hit you with that hex before Potions?!�

�� Of course I do,� she said, her
tone equally as annoyed.� �But look at
him, Harry.�

�� He spared the Potions Master another glance.� Hermione was right; he did look sickly, moreso than usual.� Paler, thinner, hollow-eyed�and perhaps a bit more vacant.� Like he hadn�t slept in a
month.� Like
he�d seen things that had permanently driven the color from his cheeks.� There was not even a hint of his telltale
glare circulating the room.� Snape seemed
to be lost in his own thoughts, which was a state that one almost never caught
him in, especially not in public. ��

�� Hermione,� he said, after a minute�s contemplation of
the head of Slytherin House, �sure, he looks
terrible.� But he�s Snape.� He�s mean for a reason, and that reason is
probably a lot worse than anything he�s seen lately.�

�� I suppose you�re right,� she conceded.� �I just�didn�t expect it to change him.� I�thought his skin was thick enough.�

�� Your skin is never thick enough with Voldemort,�
Harry replied, and both of them knew there was no truer statement.

�� They sat in silence for the remainder of the sorting,
listening to Fred, George, and Ron prattle on about Quidditch
and food.� When the hat was finally done,
Dumbledore stood and raised a hand to quiet the immediate blossom of voices.

�� I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts for yet
another year.� As I am sure you are all
hungry, I will not prolong your starvation with too many announcements.� I wish only to say that the first Quidditch match of the season will be on September 27, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin.� And also, fourteen more items have been added
to the list of Banned---�

�� The entire hall rippled with whispers as Dumbledore
stopped abruptly.� It quickly became
clear why he had halted when a great pounding sounded from the Main Hall,
followed closely by a muffled roar.

�� The tense silence was broken by a loud crash.� Severus Snape had shot out of his chair so
quickly that he knocked it over.� He
exchanged a long glance with Dumbledore.

�� The pounding sounded again.� This time it was accompanied by a shrill
scream that evoked a shiver in every person in the Hall.

�� �SEVERUS!!!�

�� At that Snape vaulted over the table and jumped the five
or so feet that raised the Teacher�s table from the rest of the Hall.� He set off down the middle aisle, between the
Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, at a dead sprint -
faster than anyone in the Hall would believe an isolated slip of a man like Snape
capable of.� They were even more shocked
when Dumbledore followed on his heels, blowing by as fast as Snape had,
completely unheeding of his age.

�� Hermione rocketed to her feet, obviously intent on seeing
what was happening.� Harry and Ron
followed suit, as did many others, only to be halted by Professor McGonagall�s
authoritative voice.

�� Stay where you are!�
You will remain seated until the Headmaster returns!�

�� They didn�t dare disobey her, not when she used that
tone of voice.� Harry, Ron, and Hermione
reluctantly returned to their seats, each of them fervently wishing for the
Invisibility Cloak that had made them an audience to so many secretive
happenings at Hogwarts in the past few years.�
Their curiosity was sated, however, by the boom of Dumbledore�s voice.

�� �EXPECTO PATRONUM!�

�� The Patronus spell!� Harry
hissed to Ron and Hermione.� �There are Dementors out there!�

�� I thought they weren�t allowed on school grounds!�
Hermione shot back in a fervent whisper.�
�How could they have gotten past the safeguards?!�

�� A second later, the boom of the doors closing announced
the end of the conflict.� Dumbledore
strode quickly back into the Hall, Snape just behind him.� He had his arm around the waist of an unknown
woman, his shoulder bent so her arm could curl around him.� He was supporting her almost entirely, partly
because her right thigh looked as though it had been clawed to shreds, and
partly because she was crying hysterically, her face buried in Snape�s neck.� For
the second time in one night, his expression stunned the trio that was so
intent on hating him.

�� It was as if his features couldn�t decide between
uncontrollable rage, paralyzing fear, and absolute relief.

�� Poppy,� Dumbledore said needlessly.� Madame Pomfrey was
already halfway down the aisle.� The
school nurse tried to put a levitation spell on the woman so she would not have
to put any weight on the bad leg, but no matter what Madame Pomfrey
did, she would not let go of Snape.� And,
not unexpectedly, Snape�s cold glare told the
well-meaning witch to back off.� Instead,
he bent slightly and picked the woman up, gesturing to Madame Pomfrey with a nod of his head.� Before anyone had a moment to process all
this, the three of them were gone.

�� Never a dull moment,� Ron said dryly, and most of the Gryffindors nodded.�
They watched as Dumbledore made his way back up to his usual spot on the
table.� Harry could barely quell the
combination of curiosity and annoyance that rose in him as Dumbledore continued
his speech where he�d left off, not saying a single word about what had just
happened.

�� Ten o�clock,� Hermione whispered in his ear.�
�We�ll meet in the Common Room.�

�� Harry nodded and leaned over to tell Ron.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Drop in the Ocean