Forbidden Flames

Forbidden Flames. Part 1

At 32, Hermione Granger radiates beauty, her curly brown locks framing her perky brown eyes. The magical world, ever hopeful, had lofty expectations of her—perhaps leading the Ministry of Magic or championing the rights of magical beings. As the friend of a celebrated hero, the weight of anticipation for her own heroic feats was palpable. Yet, Hermione had chosen a different path, one that surprised many.

Contrary to the expected narrative, Hermione hadn't even married Ron. Faced with the relentless gaze of newspapers and the burden of others' expectations, she sought solace in Romania, finding refuge in the company of her old friend Viktor Krum.

Graduating with distinction, Hermione carved her own unique journey, becoming a real estate lawyer in the wizarding world. While some dismissed her work as mundane and lacking in excitement, Hermione saw the beauty and significance in it. To her, each legal battle and negotiation was a chance to bring fairness and justice to the wizarding community.

In her eyes, life was not measured by grand gestures or fame but by the impact she made in her own sphere. Hermione found magnificence in the everyday, reveling in the knowledge that she was contributing to a world where magic and fairness could coexist.

In Viktor Krum's home, Hermione found comfort and companionship amidst his frequent absences as a dedicated Seeker on the Quidditch team. The house echoed with memories of their adventures together, yet their bond remained strong. When Viktor returned from his demanding schedule, they would seize every opportunity to create unforgettable experiences, like attending enchanting ballet performances and opera spectacles. They would embark on invigorating hikes, their camaraderie reminiscent of the closest of siblings.

For Hermione's thirty-second birthday, Viktor presented her with an extraordinary gift that took her breath away—a journey to the majestic Alps. The mountains had always held a special place in Hermione's heart, a place of awe-inspiring beauty she had yearned to witness firsthand. Overjoyed, she eagerly prepared for this momentous adventure, meticulously organizing her travel bags with anticipation and excitement.

Soon, the day arrived, and Hermione and Viktor made their way to the magical travel agency. It was from this enchanting place that they would be transported by a portal, whisked away to a cozy and magical village nestled amidst the splendor of the Alps. The anticipation electrified the air as they embarked on this extraordinary journey, ready to immerse themselves in the wonders that awaited them.

In an unexpected twist, a fervent group of teenage girls stormed into the room, their eyes ablaze with excitement. Their sole aim was to secure an autograph from the renowned Viktor Krum. Yet Viktor, wary of being seen with Hermione, concealed their true connection, for their friendship alone would be deemed unfathomable amidst the relentless swirl of rumors and gossip that engulfed them.

With a protective stance, Viktor shielded Hermione, his sturdy frame serving as a barrier, urging her forward towards the beckoning portals. Amidst the chaos, Hermione recalled with certainty that the far-right portal would transport them to the majestic Alps. Resolute, she ventured into the magical archway, tightly clutching her bag, as a swirling snowstorm engulfed her and forced her to shut her eyes tightly.

When the disorienting sensation of transference subsided, Hermione cautiously opened her eyes, eager to make way for Viktor within the portal circle. However, as she took a step forward, an icy surface betrayed her footing, sending her careening down an unexpected ice slide. Indignant thoughts raced through her mind, questioning the logic of placing a portal upon such treacherous ice.

Before she could gather her bearings, an agonizing pain jolted through her leg, stealing her consciousness in an instant. Fading into the realm of unconsciousness, Hermione grasped a fleeting realization—this was no magical village at all but a deep forest, shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

Hermione lay nestled in the embrace of deep, pristine snow, her body adorned with the chilling moisture seeping through her clothes. Her mesmerized gaze fixated upon the expanse of the gray sky above, its vastness seemingly reflecting the enigmatic nature of her surroundings. A throbbing pain reverberated through her head, a persistent reminder of the tumultuous journey that had led her to this bewildering moment.

Undeterred by the discomfort, Hermione summoned her indomitable spirit and mustered the strength to sit upright, determined to make sense of her predicament. Her eyes darted inquisitively, surveying the landscape that enveloped her with a palpable sense of mystery. A dense forest, adorned in a pristine white mantle of snow, sprawled in every direction, its towering pines reaching towards the heavens in stoic majesty. Snowflakes delicately drifted from the sky, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to the scene.

Beyond the forest's edge, majestic mountains loomed in the distance, their snow-capped peaks ascending to kiss the heavens. The air was crisp, each breath a frigid embrace that further heightened Hermione's awareness of the surreal circumstances in which she found herself.

Questions inundated her thoughts, swirling like a blizzard within her mind. Why had the portkey brought her to this mysterious location? Where precisely was she? Clad in a mix of determination and caution, Hermione summoned her courage, heedful of her injured leg as she gingerly rose to her knees. Every movement carried a whisper of pain, urging her to proceed with care, yet her spirit remained undeterred in her quest for answers.

Having cast a drying and warming spell, Hermione felt a comforting heat envelop her body, thawing the remnants of icy moisture clinging to her clothes. With a flick of her wand, she summoned her trusty bag, laden with her essential belongings, and slung it effortlessly over her shoulder. As she stood there, taking in her wintry surroundings, a peculiar sight caught her attention – wisps of smoke swirling from the nearby trees, their ethereal tendrils reaching towards the heavens. The telltale sign of a chimney, a beacon of human habitation amidst the wilderness, ignited a flicker of hope within Hermione's heart.

Her steps were deliberate, navigating the treacherous terrain of the snow-laden landscape with careful precision. Occasional missteps sent her plunging into hidden snowdrifts, eliciting both amusement and frustration. Determined not to be deterred by the unforgiving ground beneath her, Hermione employed her magical prowess, enchanting the soles of her shoes to provide an unyielding grip, defying the slippery grip of ice beneath her feet.

With each cautious step, anticipation swelled within Hermione. Thoughts swirled in her mind, a preconceived speech ready to spill forth, detailing her identity and the curious circumstances that had led her to this remote dwelling. As she approached the humble hut, her heart pounded in her chest, a mixture of nervousness and eagerness intertwining like the branches of a winter-bereft tree.

She rapped her knuckles against the weathered door, her voice primed for an apologetic intrusion. However, her rehearsed words evaporated like morning mist as the door swung open abruptly, revealing the figure on the other side. The sight before her left Hermione momentarily speechless, her lips parting and closing soundlessly, akin to a mesmerized fish momentarily deprived of its aquatic voice.

On the threshold, bathed in the subdued light that filtered through the frosted windowpane, stood Severus Snape, a figure that exuded an air of both elegance and discontent. His form was clad in a black jumper that hugged his lean frame, accentuating the sharp lines of his physique. A pristine white shirt lay beneath, contrasting starkly against the darkness that engulfed him. Black trousers, perfectly creased, flowed effortlessly down, while his feet were adorned with thick house slippers, their insides lined with plush wool, a testament to the frigid temperatures of the wilderness outside.

Hermione's eyes, unable to tear themselves away from this unexpected apparition, wandered upwards, capturing the sight of Severus Snape's changed visage. His hair, now unbound from the restraints of his customary style, cascaded around him, framing his face with an untamed allure that was both captivating and disconcerting. The strands, once raven-dark, now bore a streak of silver, a testament to the passage of time and the weight of experiences endured. Yet, despite the passage of years, his expression remained a portrait of perpetual discontent, etched with lines of weariness that only added to his enigmatic allure.