Up Up and Away
Fandom: Stargate/Harry Potter
Character(s): Hermione, others
Publish Date: Feb 2010
Update Date: June 25 2010
Summary: Hermione Granger, brilliant but scary witch, goes to work with the Stargate program
Format: SnippetsTable of Contents
Up, Up, and Away!
Chapter 1: In Which Hermione is Asked to Fly
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and Harry Potter do not belong to me. They belong to their respective creators and companies who own them.
Spoilers and differentiations: Spoilers to season 2 of SGA, and we're ignoring the seventh book and assuming that Snape was cleared of charges against him due to Dumbledore's death.
Author: Cathaign/C.987- the first is my LJ name, where this is originally posted. The second is my ffnet name.
It was an early morning, even for Hermione Granger, Research and Development grunt of new Arithmancy Uses and girl genius extraordinaire. The loud, angry screeching of her muggle alarm clock read 4:00 am. She hit the thing to shut it up several times before reaching the proper button, rolled over, and dozed.
Ten minutes later, the entire building heard a shout from flat 4D:
A frizzy head with wild, glassy eyes popped up from under the mountain of covers, realizing why the alarm had been set for so early. Hermione Granger had a plane to catch to America.
She scurried out of bed, brushed her teeth, hopped in the shower and hopped out again ten minutes later, ran some frizz lessening serum through her hair before placing a drying charm on her head, and ran back into her bedroom to where two suitcases lay open and half-packed.
In there, she quickly threw on some clothes, blouse, waistcoat, and a long skirt with slim boots, and everything else she could into one bag, and in its twin began shrinking everything as she packed it, so a half hour later, she had condensed the contents of her flat into a single bag, aside from the bed, the appliances, and the kitchen sink. She rented those from the flat manager when she had moved in two years earlier.
By five, Hermione had called the cab company, arranged for a pick up, and waited outside her flat building in the light drizzle that she was born into nearly twenty-four years prior. While she waited, being half asleep still without her morning tea, she fell into deep thought. She'd miss Harry and Ron, and all the Weasleys, but, well, people moved on.
Ron married Lavender after Hermione went to university and began her internship with Professor Snape. Harry married Ginny just out of Hogwarts, which greatly vexed her about the younger girl. She had no way of providing for herself should Harry, an Auror, become injured or die in the line of duty. Of course, she kept her mouth shut on that point, knowing that Ginny's dream had always been to marry Harry.
She shook her head to clear away the gloomy thoughts just in time, for when the yellow cab pulled up, it was fifteen after five, leaving her very little time to get to the airport and her bags checked. She had thought about Apparating earlier that week when she received notice that the British and American Governments arranged her flight into Washington DC and later Colorado Springs, Colorado.
After Colorado, she would hopefully head out on the Atlantis expedition. She hoped she hadn't been too rash in accepting the offer.
Hermione, with luggage and magical creature in tow, arrived at the airport just in time to board her flight at six. As she stepped out of the cab and turned to grab her things, she looked out at the overcast sky. She smiled a little half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.
iGoodbye, England./i she thought.
Okay, I know these are going to be short, if only because I was training to be a journalist before I came to my senses and saved what little sanity I have left. I am really and truly looking for some constructive criticism, and I'm just not getting that over on the other site. Pleas help a returning writer out here.
Chapters 2 and 3
Title: Up, Up, and Away: Part 2
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to quite a few people, probably most formidably MGM, Roland Emmerich, and Dean Devlin. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am abusing the characters because I'm procrastinating doing homework.
Let the editing begin! Here's edit one. More to come later.
Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on how to improve and continue, especially to my new BETA, the wonderful Innogen, and the following reviewers: AlecMcDowell, AllenPitt, AngusH, betrayal, bohica, chrysanne, Cordyfan, Difdi, DireSquirrel, dghardim, draconis, DrDamage, ElessarNett, EmergencySeventytwo, fanrei, FlipSideofMadness, Greywizard, Jonakhensu, jrabbit, Keshkreature, KzintiKiller,LeaFairy, Luna, MBB, MistofRainbows, Neverwillmini, RevDorothyL, Rod, Sandi, savingjuliet, Siggisab, stararisto, SusanAnthony, VillageOrchid, zafaran
After a long flight that made Hermione want to tear her hair out with her bare hands, the plane touched down in New York, and Hermione wondered (not for the first time) what she had been thinking when she'd accepted the General's offer to fly her in. Had she used her infamously sizable intellect, she could have declined and Apparated. Unfortunately, she hadn't, leading to a much greater hassle of shoving Crookshanks into a cat carrier as a carry on (disguised as actual luggage and masked with a quick disillusionment charm) and being stuck on a giant, flying death trap. She reaped what she sowed in this after ignoring her mentor's advice and going for days without sleep.
The mass of passengers started to shift ever so slightly forward, like a herd of cattle on their way to the slaughter. The rather large woman wearing the pink Mumu in 27E seemed to have wedged herself most precariously between the seats with her carry on bag.
Good, thought Hermione. She supposed that was a little vicious, even for her, but she rationalized that after a year under Umbridge in school, anyone wearing that particular shade of pink deserved whatever perverse punishment karma could come up with.
The line continued to inch forward, and Hermione clutched the carry on tightly to her. The large ball of fluff and claws hissed as two small, rambunctious children squeezed through and knocked the carrier.
"It's alright, Crooks," Hermione crooned. She pulled the muggle carrier closer to her and shielded the cantankerous feline from further physical disruptions. Said feline was somewhat quelled but nowhere near content with his situation.
Finally, Hermione and her cat could breathe when they exited the hull of the aircraft. The brunette checked the clock on the wall. She had two hours until she had to board her next flight.
Instead of waiting about in the terminal and forcing both herself and her half kneazle to succumb to the horrors of multiple security checks, Hermione took her cat (in his carrier, much to his dismay) and explored the Muggle, American airport. Crookshanks had barely been looked over by the… delightful… people in charge of Customs, thanks to the charms disguising his nature. Much as she disliked breaking the law, her abrupt departure from England left no time to vaccinate her pet the Muggle way, much less book him a space in the cargo area on the flight.
Crookshanks hissed from his confines again. The ride and subsequent rough handling in the disembarking of the plane made him cranky.
The sheer loudness of the airport jarred her, just as it had the first time around. The air never cleared of noise; there existed a constant hum of reunions, departures, separations, arguments, laughter, and tears. It reminded her of her early days at Hogwarts, waiting anxiously with her parents at Platform 9 ¾. She shook off those thoughts. Now was not the time to reminisce about things she'd miss during her time away.
When she saw the sign above her head, she let out a startled laugh. Her feet, without the aid of her ever-working brain, had led her directly to her terminal's bookstore.
"Well Crooks," she chuckled at the plastic carrier and its passenger, "at least some things never change."
With that, she hauled her carry on and cat into the store and perused through the books she had never read. Outside of school work and research, she used to be found at meetings and jobs and at the Weasleys. So many hectic things to do daily, especially dealing with Mrs. Weasley's attempts to marry her off, had kept her from exploring Muggle fiction beyond the classics. Thus, she examined each cover and blurb carefully, enjoying the way the books smelled as she opened them, and the way the pages slid through her hands.
In times of such rapid technological advancement, she took comfort in the familiarity of her old friends. She picked one, a mystery, that she felt would hold her attention for the duration of the final leg of her destination.
Hermione sighed. She knew Molly meant well. After all, her own parents were not a part of the Wizarding World, and unaccustomed to the... somewhat antiquated lifestyle that still prevailed, especially when it came to women's rights and her rights as a Muggleborn witch.
With half an hour left to go, Hermione gathered up her things and headed to the dreaded airport security where she was prodded, pulled from line, and picked on by overzealous guards. Crookshanks hissed from his carrier.
Finally, they managed to shove their way onto the plane and hunkered down for the remainder of their journey.
Meanwhile, in Colorado, deep underneath an abandoned missile silo, General Jack O'Neill, two "L"s, mind you, sat in one of Gerneral Landry's more comfy chair and contemplated.
The British Prime Minister was sending him a civilian researcher for Atlantis. He didn't quite understand why the researcher was necessary this late in the game on Atlantis, but Britain had threatened to pull out of the project if she was not allowed to join.
This put the Stargate program in a pickle. He and General Landry agreed that allowing an unknown variable into the equation surely spelled disaster, if not in the fatal or injurious kind, than in the morale and trust built by those already serving the program.
He ran a hand through salt and pepper hair and winced as some of his shiny bars denoting his rank poked him through the material of his shirt.
He was old.
The door burst open, revealing one Vala Mal Doran, pouting, followed by a more sedate General Landry.
A new recruit would not have guessed that this pigtailed pouter was once one of the greatest intergalactic thieves ever to be possessed by the Goa'uld. Well, a thief and con artist.
"Who's going to Atlantis?" she demanded.
"I already told you, Vala, it is not Dr. Jackson," said General Landry
"Well, who else could it be? None of the new scientists can go yet; they have not completed the gene therapy, and the ones that have completed gene therapy are still learning the language the Ancients wrote in."
The two generals looked at each other and sighed.
General Landry took over. "We know, Vala. There's a new scientist being sent over from England. Apparently, she's smart, and a fast learner. The head of the British government asked that she be allowed to join the program, and so we're bringing her in on a proviso basis. If she doesn't work out before she gets shipped off, we can send her home."
For once, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex was quiet. No chevron alarms clanged, no hostile invaders attempted to break through the Stargate. The only noise was that which the scientists had made earlier in the morning about Vala Mal Doran.
General Landry liked quiet days, especially when new researchers came on board. He wasn't sure why the British Ministry was so adamant to have this kid on an Atlantis team, but seeing as how the Prime Minister had all but told the President to take her or lose British support, he wasn't going to question orders too much. So there he sat, behind his imposing desk, waiting for some young hot shot with degrees in several fields of chemistry, dead languages, and applied mathematics. For all her different degrees, her personnel file showed an alarming lack of experience in the field. It was odd for a student to graduate with little field experience or experiments.
That wasn't to say her dissertations were anything less than exemplary. General Landry had skimmed through the abstracts, and had several scientists read over her work to predetermine one Hermione Granger's qualifications.
He sent up a quick prayer that this scientist didn't end up injured like all of his others. The medical supply bills gave him heart palpitations already. Add in one more trouble magnet scientist, and he might have a heart attack.
The General was awakened from his wool gathering session by a knock at the door.
"Come," he said, trying to appear less distracted than he felt.
The door opened, revealing one of his airmen carrying- a cat carrier? The poor man attempted to stand at attention even with the obviously heavy baggage weighing down one side.
"Sir, Hermione Granger, Sir." The airman saluted awkwardly.
Landry peered around the airman curiously, only able to glimpse flyaway curls just barely peaking over the airman's shoulder. Then the airman-Landry didn't know him by name yet- stepped aside to allow the mystery wunderkind inside.
She was tiny.
No, seriously. She was tiny. Possibly needed a double bacon cheeseburger for every meal. Landry was seriously beginning to doubt the British Prime Minister's sanity. She could get knocked over by a gust of wind, and her eyes had shadows of rings under them, like she didn't sleep often.
She nodded to the airman, and as an aside asked him to put the cat down. "Crooks really hates the carrier, and he seems to be in a foul mood already. I just don't want your hands where he can reach them."
He looked down to the carrier she gestured at. Inside sat a large, orange, hissing thing. It could be a cat. Wait. What? Her cat was in foul mood? What the hell had the Brits sent him?
"Airman, you're dismissed," the General said, still staring at the conundrum before him. He didn't even see the youngster leave, just heard the click of the door as it shut behind him.
"Well," General Landry began, "welcome to Stargate Command. I… trust you have been debriefed on the situation?"
She smiled, looking decidedly out of place in this utilitarian setting in her Victorianesque blouse, waistcoat and wool skirt. "Yes, sir. Aliens and the lost city of Atlantis, was it? La! It's all very fascinating, especially when comparing the recorded mythos we have of Atlantis hear on Earth to what your scientists have discovered so far in the city itself."
He interlaced his fingers across his desk and slouched into them, relaxing and tensing at the same time in anticipation. "What can you offer our program?"
She picked some thread from her dress and idly played with it. "As you've been informed, I have my degrees, bachelor as well as Masters and PhDs in Chemistry and Applied Mathematics. I have a strong background in dead languages and runic symbols- it's quite amazing what one can learn in a Scottish boarding school. I have not been published due to some rather antiquated beliefs held around my area of research, and some of the research I would have liked to publish must remain classified at this time. I have passed all the necessary physical requirements given to the British government to work for this program and then some. I try to sty somewhat physically fit, though I don't look it at all."
The general didn't blink. "Why are you here?"
"Well," she began slowly, "I don't quite know. I needed to get away from England, Great Britain, and the rest of Europe for a bit, and the Prime Minister, who said he'd been impressed by my dissertations, offered me a job as a scientist. I cracked some codes and solved some chemistry equations the senior scientists had trouble with, and the next thing I know, they tell me I'm to be shipped off to another galaxy."
"Not exactly," Landry stated dryly.
Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corners. "Then I can remain underfoot until I find a job here in America. I'd rather not deal with airports for a while, and getting my Visa was hassle enough," she said pragmatically.
"I presume you signed all your non-disclosure forms and other paperwork."
"Well then, let's introduce you to the reason all this started, the Stargate."
The blinds covering the windows in the office pulled up mechanically, and she saw it. A giant ring, with unusual symbols carved in it, sat hooked up to machines of all sorts with a modern ramp leading from the center of the ring to the ground level.
It delighted her, seeing this structure in juxtaposition with all its modern surroundings. The sheer size of the ring, with its antiquated wear and roughness, combined with the elegance of a perfect circle made her feel more at home in this utilitarian atmosphere.
"It's a lovely piece of architecture," she said.
Generals Landry and O'Neill agreed. Then, they looked at each other, communicating in that way that men do, and General O'Neill said, "I need to get back to DC soon, so I think I'll make a round of the base, say my hellos, and then head back. I trust you can take it from here, General Landry?"
General Landry responded with a nod in the affirmitave, saying, "Yes, sir. If I don't see you before then, have a safe trip."
The two men saluted, shook hands, and left Hermione wondering how much of that conversation she missed with meaningful looks and hidden codes.
Once General O'Neill left, General Landry turned his attention completely to the young woman before him.
"We'll set you up in one of the guest rooms for now; Airman Lee will take your things. Airman Lee! Take our newest personnel member to the guest rooms."
The young man summoned gave a sharp salute, and moved to grab her things. Then, she followed him down the halls, further and further away from the sun to her new temporary home.
Hermione's Bad Day
Story: Up, Up, and Away
Chapter: In Which Hermione Talks Back
Disclaimer: I obviously hold no claim on these universes, and am making no money whatsoever by destroying them with my mind.
Chapter Summary: Hermione meets Vala... sort of.
AN: Okay everyone, I understand that not everyone has the time or effort to review these, but please tell me what you did or didn't like! I only have twelve reviews for this, and several thousand hits. Edit 1 Also, oh my god, epic fail on my part! Thank you RevDorothyL! After pointing out major flaws in this chapter, I realized why it's bad to write and post when I haven't slept in a few days. I completely mixed up character names... *headdesk*
Hermione's day did not start off well. She woke in her bunk, a cold, gray thing so unlike her comfortable bed back in England, and managed to hit her head on the unused top portion of it. While that began to swell as she searched her trunk for a bruise balm, Crookshanks decided he disliked American military rations, and expressed his displeasure on her shoes.
Then, after finally drawing her wand and blacking out whatever cameras may have been placed for surveillance, she accioed the balm and performed a quick but thorough evanesco on her shoes. Of course, once she finished, she dispelled the confundus charm she had placed over the camera and surreptitiously hid her wand.
Several relatively minor setbacks later, like her hair in more disarray than usual, and she was out the door in her usual ensemble of skirt, blouse, waistcoat, and lab coat.
'I did feed Crookshanks this morning, didn't I? Yes, I did. I'm sure of that.'
Her gait, just shy of frantic from the moment she yanked open her door, stopped suddenly when she ran into a sturdy something or other while her mind ran through her mental checklist of her morning routine.
"You alright there, Dr. Granger? You look mighty frazzled," said the wall. Hermione looked up to see it was one of the airmen that usually helped her find her way around the underground base, a nice young man from Georgia with sun bleached hair, kind eyes, and a jaw line she didn't mind admiring.
"Yes, yes, just… feeling a bit knackered. The lack of sleep has finally caught up with me, I suppose," Hermione replied.
"I'll bet it has, Doctor. Look on the bright side- after tomorrow, you'll have clear skies and smooth sailing as it were on the Deadalus all the way to Atlantis."
Hermione chuckled. "Yes, after taking how long to convince not only General O'Neill, but also your Mu… American I.O.A , I think it was?"
The nice Georgian man, Jacob Lee was his name, smiled back at her and replied, "That's just because these northerners don't know how to act around a lady, questionin' all your learnin' like they did."
At that moment, when her morning had finally started to look a little brighter, disaster struck.
From around the corner, a woman wearing black and olive barreled right into Hermione Granger, knocking her flat on the floor.
From her prone position and through the pounding in her skull, Hermione could vaguely hear the shouts of, "Vala? What did you do?" and "Did you kill our scientist?". Everything went black shortly thereafter.
When she woke, she lay on an even more uncomfortable bed with scratchier sheets, and had something cold pressed against the back of her head. She opened her eyes slowly.
"Ugh... General O'Neill? Is something wrong?" she asked.
The general standing at the foot of her bed gave a slight jump. "Nope," he said, "just your run of the mill alien attache`s trying to kill scientists who've finally been approved for the Atlantis mission."
"She tried to kill me?" Hermione asked, "I thought she was just angry and not watching where she was going."
"Call it whatever you want, Granger. Apparently she was on her way to scold me. She thought the scientist en route tomorrow was Dr. Jackson."
Hermione nodded, then winced at the move. "I see."
The General leveled a look at her. "This random accidental injury thing better not be normal for you. They've got enough of those on Atlantis already."
"No sir, today seems to be an extraordinarily bad day."