Disclaimer: You all know that J. K. Rowling actually owns the Potterverse... I just enjoy twisting it around to suit my idle fancy.
The Unspeakable Files: Godspell
An HP Fanfic
Draco inhaled deeply, the acrid smell of burning flesh filling his nose. Suppressing the gag reflex that threatened, he fired off another Petrificus Totalus without a word. His usually-smirking face was set in a deep scowl, one that matched with uncanny accuracy the expression writ across the visage of his only ally in this mad rush. The wand in his hand thrummed with scarcely-contained energy, little more than an extension of his arm. The focus it provided was no longer strictly necessary; long months of training had ensured that, but all the same there was comfort to it. One that in situations like this was most welcome indeed.
The brilliant crimson sparks of a second attack issued from the ebony wood with customary, practiced perfection, but were diffused by a timely counterspell. Swearing under his breath, he smoothly pivoted, Severus at his back echoing the motion without being asked, changing places with him and switching up the game on their opponents. Draco's eyes flashed with grim satisfaction when his subsequent stunner hit a man square in the temple, and the target dropped like a stone, contacting cold earth with a muffled thud.
It didn't, of course, interrupt his unholy litany of obscenities, murmured more for his own focus and rapidly-fading calm as anything else. It wasn't supposed to be happening like this—they should have had backup by now. Aurors, people from their own department, anything—but they were still alone. Skilled as the both of them were, they'd been caught foolishly flat-footed by the entire thing, unprepared for the sheer numbers of what should have been ordinary smugglers.
"Truly, if you are going to waste your breath so, you may as well incant your spells aloud." Snape's smooth voice, long trained to perfect stoicism, betrayed no hint of the fact that they were currently outnumbered in what should have been a simple situation. Well, simple for them, anyway. As it was, both had already narrowly missed a fair share of Unforgivables, and Draco was ironically grateful for his own knowledge of the Dark Arts at the moment.
He tsk-ed and rolled his eyes at the rebuke. It was just like his godfather to remain so completely unruffled, even when he himself was starting to feel the heat. His wand moved in a series of sharp gestures too quick to track, and a woman screamed and disappeared with a pop, apparently having apparated in her haste to get away. The swish of heavy fabric behind him indicated that Severus was performing a similar maneuver, only his target didn't make it away in time.
That left five, though these had been made more cautious than their fellows by the fact that the two wizards they faced remained standing for all their efforts. Not without injury: Draco had sustained a laceration to his right forearm, which currently dripped blood at a lazy rate, though he was careful not to let it slick his wand or hand. His mentor was a little better off, with no more than a few minor abrasions here and there, the product of quick reflexes and extensive knowledge. Draco straightened, glaring daggers at the squat wizard most directly in his eyesight. There was something squirrelly about the man, something he instinctively and at once both recognized and was wary of. His steely eyes narrowed, and his grip reflexively tightened on his wand.
For a moment, nobody moved, and he took a half-step backwards, shoring up his position against the flawless posture of his friend. The two wizards, garbed entirely in black, stood on a swath of level ground, their foes forming a rough circle about them. Only experience and skill had kept them alive this long… that, and the fact that nobody had yet hurled an Avada Kadavra. All was silent for interminable seconds, breaths, short but controlled, heartbeats, staccato and vigorous.
The next curse was hurtled at him in a language he did not recognize, and because of that, no counterspell presented itself to his mind. Unwilling to dodge and let whatever it was hit Severus in the back, he threw up the most general shield charm he knew. Predictably, it shattered, and he took the curse straight in the chest, only barely maintaining the presence of mind to fall sideways. Winded and unable to cry out, he had to hope that the sound of him hitting the floor beneath them would be enough to alert the Snape to what had happened.
The last thing he saw was the pudgy man's thin lips curling into a smirk worthy of his own father, and then the world went dark around him.
A/N: Greetings, curious reader! I do hope I've not scared anybody off with the vagueness of this chapter… my intent is to make the story something of a mystery that unfolds as it moves along, with of course the obligatory character cameos and (some degree of) romance.
The author is enamored of reviews and would very much like to know if anyone's even interested in the story. For reference, it's written based on a prompt given to me by a friend:
"I'd like a DM/LL or SS/HG (both if possible) that a| contains Norse Mythology as a major component, b| involves some kind of familial bond between Draco and Severus (not blood-related), c| keeps everyone in-character as much as possible (with allowances for things to have changed since the war, depending on how many years you want to put in there) d| is canon-compliant until Snape dies, and then promptly disregards the epilogue. Also e| lemons are a bonus, but only if they actually fit into the story."
Not really sure if I'll write any lemons, but we'll see, I suppose. Full chapters will be quite a bit longer than this, of course.
Reviews desired, but not required.