The Prime Princess

Cold steel felt hard under her side. Harsh-sounding steps closed in around Hermione who tried to stay awake. She rolled over to her back and blinked. Bright light blinded her for a moment and then a figure stood in front of the light source. Adjusting to the change, her eyes were fixed on Saga who looked down on her.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” smiled the Time Walker and gave a hand to pull her up from the floor. Branwen and Hel were standing couple of feet away from them and talked with some technicians below the landing platform. A tall man in black and red uniform stood beside Marshals and gave some orders to Hel who disappeared into gloomy mist as she left the podium.

“I’m where?” Hermione growled and staggered to feet.

“On board of Atlantis flagship Atlantica,” told the approaching platinum blond commanding officer and extended his hand. “I am General Lucianus of Asgard, the Supreme Commander of Atlantis fleet.”

“Hermione… of Midgard,” she introduced herself and stared at General. Veela blood ran strong in his veins, making him incredibly hansom and sexy as hell if only he hadn’t been married to Saga.

“Hi luv, had a nice trip home?” he murmured and hugged his wife, planting a sounding kiss on her lips.

“Quite lovely, Hel snatched a free outgoing portal in the middle of the game and got us all back,” purred Saga and ruffled his perfectly gelled short hair into spikes.

Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes, although looking at her mirror image in Lucius’ clone’s arms made her feel edgy and jealous. They looked good together.

“I don’t want to ruin this mushy scene, oh wait I do! What the heck is going on?” she demanded and couldn’t tore her eyes of Lucianus. He was so imposing and very much distracting as Hermione missed seeing another replica walk up to the Portal Platform. After hearing Branwen shriek in glee, she finally noticed that Wraith Walker had jumped up straddling a tall, broad-shouldered man with lots of body piercing and tattoos. Raven feathers were weaved into long jet-black hair that flooded like mane over the back of leather jacket that had stitched over the back: Hell can wait. Twirling Branwen around while kissing and hugging her, Hermione was taken aback by him. In front of her was a real badass rock star with trimmed goatee AND it was Potion Master’s twin!

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me,” Hermione gasped and stared at the crazy pair and then the modestly smiling pair. “This is nuts. I’m having a nervous breakdown…” she muttered and backed away from them. Saga looked apologetic and reached out to her but Hermione moved further out of her grasp.

“Is this who you were talking about?” asked the carbon copy of Snape after noticing panicking Hermione. “Damn, she’s hot!” he cursed and got bitten by Branwen.

Hermione pressed herself against a glassy wall and turned around to find a door or a handle but halted to the spot. On the other side of a big bay window was black open space with twinkling distant starts. A giant blazing sun burned nearby with two other smaller blue suns. A ringed planet hided others from the view as Hermione gawked out into space, watching massive Cruisers and slender Gliders roam over starry blackness with an ease. Stealth Fighters darted between them, gathering together like a swarm of bees as they were boarded.

“I’ve heard about this… Under pressure people will crack… Ha, I’m bananas!” Hermione huffed and turned around to face her insanity. She drew out her wands and pointed at Saga and Lucianus who had come too close.

“Hermione, it’s alright. You’re safe here, no harm will come to you,” told Lucianus holding his hands up to show he was unarmed. Saga stood beside him but glanced at approaching Branwen who seemed to look right into Hermione’s mind.

“She’s loosin’ it,” she purred in quiet drawl and a remorseful expression glided over her pale fairy face as she stepped even closer.

“Now that would be bad, right?” the dark rogue asked and stared at Hermione. He had something in mind but General caught him first.

“Don’t even think about it, Severiano, or I’ll take away your wings. Understand me, Colonel?”

“Can’t we just…” he started and then met General’s icy gaze, “Yes, Sir.”

In the meanwhile Hermione had come up with a bunch of hexes and curses to fight her way out of there. She still doubted but the more she looked at Colonel the more she was sure the whole thing was just a fiction of her own mind. No way could Snape waltz around like something jumped out of Muggle MTV! And those leather pants were really tight with chromed rivets all over. And what was up with a ton of platinum chains hanging everywhere?

“Caedo!” she called out a less-known Killing Curse. Red streams hit General and Branwen to the ground but bounced back from energy shields protecting them. Both wands’ curses flew up into steel ceiling and brought down few sparkling panels. Lights went out and technicians hurried to repair damages. In a dim light of red emergency lights Hermione could make out figures moving around, shouting commands and reporting technical status. It all was so off of her wizarding world that she felt alien at there. Not even St. Mungo could fix her.

Aiming for the open bridge door, she darted between yelling officers and blinking consoles and ran into narrow corridor. Looking both ways she had no idea where to go because everything seemed the same. Like in a bad dream she took off in one direction and turning around a corner she bumped into someone.

“Draco!” she yelped looking up and seeing the younger Malfoy.

“It’s been a long time since someone called me like that,” he drawled and held onto her shoulders. He was different although – his hair was long and silky, few braids keeping it from falling over his elfin features. Still snobbish but graceful and those sky-blue eyes were her doom in capturing. Coming to senses again, Hermione looked past him and saw Hel amongst dark clouds she had created.

“Yes, it has been… a long time,” she whispered and wanted to take a step backwards but his grip on her tightened. He looked down on her and at one moment he resembled to Legolas of Northern Mirkwood.

“Major?” Void Walker questioned him as he still was gazing at Hermione.

“Major Draconis of Jotunheim at your service, ma’am.” He had fallen back to military manners and that bothered Hermione, as she seriously wanted to skip this nightmare.

“Major, she wants to see you. And her,” said Void Walker in ragged voice and stepped aside as Major led unwilling Hermione down the corridor and radioed to General that situation was under control.

“Oh, this is bloody lovely, I’m in goddamn SciFi soap!” muttered Hermione and tried to pull herself free from Major.
***
Door slide open with a hiss and revealed the Infirmary. Doctor Pomfrey in white lab coat turned around and eyed over the rim of glasses at the three of them. Hermione was wedged between Major and Marshal as they strode in. They moved along the row of beds and Doctor Pomfrey accompanied them. She punched the touch-screen of the datapad she was holding and started reporting a list of medical evaluations.

“I have given her sedatives but she is still fighting,” Doctor Pomfrey ended her speech as they reached to the farthest part of Infirmary. Major just nodded grimly and marched on. Underverse Marshal stayed a step behind them, guarding theirs six with an armed staff-weapon. Crystals in both ends were glowing bright red, giving a hint of fierce power that lay concealed. A head of a howling wolf was crowning the mercury staff as the crystal was placed between its teeth, the end of the staff bare a paw with the other crystal in the grip of sharp claws.

“She has not much time,” Doctor whispered and opened a door to isolation ward with a keycard. Hermione looked over her shoulder at Hel walking in a dark mist and pointing her staff at her to make a point of no escape. Major still hadn’t let go of her arm as she was dragged along the whole way.

“I know,” Major drew a ragged answer and tugged Hermione, “Play nice.”

“What? Me?” Hermione pouted in a mocking way and refused to go with him. Major just took hold of her and manhandled her through the door. Even stronger smell of chemical medicines hit her nose as she stumbled in and stopped in her tracks.

In the middle of dimly lit room was a hospital bed surrounded with medical equipment. Doctor went to check the monitors and did some calculations using her datapad. Hel stood guard by the door and had her staff ready to strike. Major stepped to the side of the bed and looked down on Middleverse Marshal – Morrigan of Jotunheim. The redhead was strapped down, looking rather harmless.

“Morgan?” he called her and gritted his teeth as one green eye opened and fixed itself on him. “She’s here,” was all he said in distant sounding voice. Hermione stared at Morrigan who was a complete wreck of totally insane Scot. Lots of bruises, cuts and burns covered her exposed skin that had ill gray hue. Morrigan also suffered under high fever that colored her eyes into reddish-black circles. Heavily drugged, fatally sick but still kicking.

“Lovely,” Rage Walker purred and opened her brown eye to look directly at Hermione who started struggling with Major Draconis. She despised the weakness of Marshal, loathing turned quickly into anger towards Morrigan and others who held her in that room with a sick person. Hermione sensed Morrigan creeping under her skin, intoxicating her with fury that lovingly wrapped itself around her heart. It was her rage – Morrigan’s – not hers! Her powers were spiking up Hermione’s own caged ice-cold wrath.

“Bring me lassie wee bit closer,” Morrigan asked and tore at her straps to get her hands free. “Aye, ye do wonderful.”

“No fuckin’ way! Let me go!” Hermione screamed and pulled herself out of Major’s grip. She had both her wands at her possession and she was going to use them. No sick person was going to touch her!

Second later she was hurled to the floor and Major was twisting her wands out of her hands. Anger grew stronger, feeding from the steel environment and blinding her. A red haze lowered over her eyes burying all logic under it. Only primal need of killing survived. Beast roared inside her but Ariston slammed an icy fist down its throat.

“Tempus Katalepsis!”

She was not going to be a murderer like Draco! No, she won’t descend that low like he! A hot white pain lanced up her right arm from the Mark and burst through her aching body leaving her weak.

It was better not to move because every movement sent stings across her limbs. Fuming anger was still there but her rage turned into ice, her heart into stone as Ariston pushed herself up and viewed time distortions in the isolation ward as they glowed in a shade of amethyst.

Crabbing a keycard from good doctor, she limped past Hel who had shot at her but the energy burst of the staff was left hanging in the air in a shape of red fireball. Halted time crackled around it in bright violet color.

“Gotta get out of here,” she mumbled and acciod her wands. Infirmary was still quiet, few nurses and orderlies were tending patients. Hurrying to the exit, something hit her at the back.

All seeing Saga stood behind her, flipping a stun gun back to holster on her hip. Marshal raised her hand to her com unit and clicked in on, radioing to General.

“Sir, I got her,” she reported and looked down to the floor were Hermione lay.

“Good, transport her to on board of Mothership and put her into cell block.”

“Yes, Sir.”