Soul Bound 01/? (Hermione/Spock - PG)
Title: Soul Bound - 01
Categories: Harry Potter, Star Trek AOS/Reboot/IX/2009
Type: gen, het, romance, drama, scifi, supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/nu!Spock
For: crossbigbang
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood and co, JK Rowling does. I don’t know Trekverse and associated characters, Paramount and various other holding companies do.
Author Notes: See the Master Post for full notes.
AU after B7 Deathly Hallows; ignore the epilogue. AU to Star Trek Reboot the movie. The Narada destroys the Kelvin but the events in the movie have changed because Spock’s motivation, character, and history have changed since he met a particular little girl. Butterfly Effect.
Acknowledgments: Janni, for the art created and my beta Kit.
Last Edited: June 11, 2011, Please note this may be revised & updated.
Summary: One event moves the Q-Continuum to act, a choice that changes the paths of two individuals on two different worlds in two different times.
AN: Pre the movie ST Reboot. Pre the Harry Potter books.
~ooO 01 In the Beginning Ooo~
"The Kelvin's destruction has set off a tendency to isolationism and violence. And Vulcans destruction? Unacceptable!" A young, impatient masculine voice cut through the dark void painted with multi-hued strands of free floating energy. Each ribbon, with its unique tint and shade, represented an incorporeal being of varying skill and experience. A particular scarlet ribbon rippled indicating the current speaker. "The Federation needs the skills and strengths, the stability and logic of Vulcans to anchor the passions of their more volatile members. If the Narada destroys their homeworld, the Milky Way galaxy in this reality will inevitably fall to the Borg."
"You are too fond of mortals. You simply wish to see Picard and Janeway in new incarnations." The second voice was older seeming, whispery and almost androgynous. Its presence was subtle and still, barely indicated by pale green streams resembling water.
"I do not deny that, Q. And you cannot deny the Borg will create an evolutionary dead end in their quest for Perfection, in assimilating and destroying."
"We cannot protect the mortal races forever, Q. They must face and survive the Borg to mature. By that same token we cannot stop the Narada." The androgynous voice countered evenly.
"You are both correct. What would you suggest, Q?" A mature female voice broke into the discussion, rich purple energy ribbons vibrated with her presence.
"We don't have to act directly." The younger Q sounded eager now.
"You have a plan." The elderly voice sounded disapproving.
"I do. We cannot act, but corporeal beings are not restricted." The more energetic male Q countered.
"Are you suggesting we move the Enterprise under Picard to neutralize the Narada?" Now the female sounded thoughtful.
"No, the rules do not permit that degree of intervention." The youngest Q admitted. "I was thinking about leaving a trail in the thirtieth century Temporal Agency archives. Time travel does fall under their dominion."
"No." The female's voice was thoughtful. "The interaction of the supernova consuming Romulus and the blackhole has released a great deal of energy. Once the Narada emerges, it will create a true splinter, a separate ribbon thread in the weft of the multiverse. Any actions by an agent from the future will not affect the new universe."
"Then what do you suggest?" The young male Q's voice sounded sullen.
"I suggest we introduce a new factor, a variable from a past."
"What do you mean?" Q was confused now. "How could a primitive being assist in stopping a ship like the Narada?"
"Tell me Q, have you met the Q who used the name Myrddin when he interacted with mortals from Earth?"
"Myrddin?"
"Yes. He was more famously known as Merlin."
"No!" Q was shocked and awed. "Really? And the Continuum didn't make a fuss?"
"They couldn't because he was obeying the rules. When he interacted with the primitives he limited himself to what they could do. He even taught them to do more than what they could have managed to figure out on their own," the elderly Q explained.
"You mean…"
"Yes. Q spent a few centuries on an Earth where a small segment of humanity had very high psi-potential. The local terms for them include mage, warlock, witch, wizard, sorcerer, sorceress, and adept." The female added.
"Why haven't I heard of them? They sound more interesting than the general run of the mill humanity."
"Because they aren't." The female Q's voice was blunt. "Most of them are uncreative grunts, tedious and stupid. They could never entertain or interest you like Picard or the Enterprise. With very few rare exceptions."
"So one of these rare exceptions…"
"Might be able to help." The female concluded in satisfied tones.
"Do you have someone in mind?" The youngest Q wanted to know.
"As a matter of fact I do. Her name is Hermione Jane Granger. We just have to make sure she meets someone who can provide her the information we cannot."
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
In a small sterile cell-like room, a very young Vulcan-Human hybrid shivered. He could hear his sa-mekh speaking to the healer in the room next door.
Spock cha Sarek struggled to resist the urge to cry. Why was he being punished? It wasn't his fault! He didn't start the fight. It wasn't his fault all the other children hated him! Adults might say hate was illogical and that it did not exist in Vulcan society but Spock knew otherwise. They all hated him, all adults but ko-mekh and sa-mekh. He sensed it in almost every single adult he had come into contact with. And now in every child.
His breath caught as he stifled a sob and settled into a corner of the room, knees drawn up and face buried in them. He did not want anyone to see him crying.
After several minutes the sobs faded as the young child settled into an exhausted slumber, despite his upright position. No one disturbed the little boy as he slept and dreamt.
Most would say Vulcans do not dream. Most would be liars. Adult Vulcans had the necessary control to rest without falling into what Terrans would call REM state. Children lacked the necessary Disciplines and dreamt, but rarely of anything truly vivid or illogical like most humanoids. Spock was different. When he dreamt his dreams were vivid and improbable, like the dreams of his human mother. And at that moment, he believed he was in such a dream.
He was wrong.
~o~
The furnishings and décor of the twentieth-century Western style home were unusually detailed. Spock wasn't certain how it had come about because he had not known such things once existed until he did research to identify the details of his dream. This home was 'upper-middle-class' given the quality of appearance and the large number of electronics in one particular room. The viewscreens were not flat and efficient as the ones on Vulcan, of course. Before he had the chance to test the devices (they had never worked before) Spock heard soft hiccupping cries from above.
He frowned. He had always been alone in this house before. Whenever he had tried to leave the structure the dream always ended. Curious about the new variable he made his way to the stairs, which lead upstairs and followed the childish wails to its source.
He had found this room in one of his earlier explorations. It was a traditional Terran nursery with the necessary furnishings and accessories: a crib underneath a colourful Terran solar system mobile, a quilt covered rocking chair by the window, shelves and drawers stacked with folded materials and various containers.
This time there was something different. Someone else in the room. A child. A human child much younger than him was standing in the crib, clinging to the bars.
Spock was not certain if the child was male or female.
Hazel brown eyes spotted him and Spock saw the baby's expression change, the tears stopped and the small moist mouth stretched into what ko-mekh called a smile.
"Ba-ba!"
Spock frowned. "No. Spock."
The baby stilled and mimicked the frown.
"Spah?"
The boy tried to correct the child. "Spock."
The infant grinned, pleased. "Spahk."
Spock blinked. It was the more accurate Vulcan pronunciation of his name, so he nodded. "Yes. Spahk."
The mass of light brown curls covering the small head bounced as the child nodded vigorously and mimicked him. "Yes. Spahk."
The boy was at a loss. The child was too young to communicate meaningfully. Besides this was a dream, a construct of his subconscious. Why a Terran infant? Surely a Vulcan infant in a Vulcan home would be more logical?
"Spahk!" The child cried out loudly, demanding his attention.
Hesitantly he approached the crib. "What is it little one?" He spoke in halting Standard.
The baby held both chubby arms up, balancing precariously on wobbly feet. "Up."
Spock glanced at the crib. He was much too short to lift the baby over the protective railings. Why did he even consider that action? This was just a dream! The child was not real!
"Spahk?"
He looked down at the large almost golden eyes framed by the mass of springy curls streaked with various shades of brown and gold.
"Spahk?" Tears were pooling in those big gold eyes. One tiny chubby hand thrust out between the railings.
Before his eyes the railings vanished and the child tumbled forward. Spock just barely managed to catch the child before she hit the floor. Her cheek brushed against his cheek. She. She was a girl. Her mind was distinctly female, young but very aware.
He had not even thought it was possible to meld with a figment of his subconscious in a dream. Fragments of her memories brushed against his mind.
She was called Hermione or darling or pumpkin or sweetie or My'own. Her ko-mekh was called Jane or Mrs Granger. Her sa-mekh was called Mark or Mr Granger. She loved her parents reading to her. She loved playing in the sandbox her sa-mekh made for her. When she was bored or lonely she made her toys dance and play with her.
What just happened? What was happening? How was this possible?
"Spahk?" This time her tone was hesitant and uncertain. "Spahk play?"
S'chn T'gai Spah'k, scion of the House of Surak made an emotional decision. This Terran child wanted to play with him. She most likely was a figment of his sub-conscious but she was an intriguing curiosity.
"Yes Hermione. I will play with you."
She beamed up at him.
Dark brown eyes widened as a small pile of soft multi-coloured felt cubes materialized in a small pile, as though beamed into the room via a transporter.
Spock resigned himself to playing 'building blocks'. At least it was something different and new.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Spock eyed the book she was holding out to him. It was a work of fiction called 'The Cat in the Hat'. It was completely unsuitable for one of Hermione's capabilities and intellect. She did not have the vocabulary to communicate verbally but she had very definite and precise views, a logic that was most interesting to deconstruct.
"Do you want me to read this story?"
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
"Same same." She announced playing with her Lego building blocks. "Same story."
"Would you like to hear a different story?"
She nodded eagerly her eyes bright.
"Yes! New story!"
Then she abandoned her building blocks to settle next to him, curling into his body. Spock had long given up on trying to make her respect his personal space. She would listen and then do whatever she wanted anyway.
"Do you know where your name comes from My'own?"
She shook her head.
"There are two places where your mother most likely heard your name. One is from a Shakespearean play called The Winter's Tale. The other is from an ancient Greek myth. Which tale would you like to hear?"
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Play! Winter." She pronounced carefully.
Spock nodded and gathered his thoughts before he began speaking clearly, almost lecturing the wide-eyed little girl as he recited an abridged version of the tale his mother had read to him when he was younger as part of his night-time routine; something that only they had shared. Spock was surprised to find out he did not mind her lying so close to him. Her emotions were intense yes, but her thoughts were very direct with an underlying almost Vulcan-like curiosity; she wanted to know More.
If she wanted to learn, Spock was more than willing to teach. It was definitely better than reading 'The Cat in the Hat' for the thirty-seventh time.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Spock frowned as he watched My'own play with the logic puzzles he had programmed into the PADD. He still did not understand how this place could exist. How his mind travelled to here without his conscious control. How she could do what she did.
He had been bored entertaining the little girl, playing with her toys that had appeared out of nowhere. Then one day she had stumbled into his embrace carrying a piece of twenty-third technology that had no place in their late twentieth century surroundings.
"For Spahk," she had pronounced proudly.
He had tried to determine the source of the PADD, even resorting to a shallow meld. And he had been terrified and awed by what he had learnt.
She Willed it into existence. Just as she Willed her toys to play, the crib to vanish. Did she Will the house into existence? Was she responsible for his presence here? Was she capable of drawing a Vulcan from a distant future because she wanted a playmate?
If she was so capable as an untrained child, Spock could only imagine the near unlimited potential of her powers she would have when she was older, trained, and experienced. Suddenly Spock was very impatient to see that. He did not want to wait for her to grow and mature at Terran rates.
Then an idea hit him. She could 'create' what she saw through her melds. Could she recreate a Learning Bowl from his memories? He frowned slightly. Perhaps Learning Bowls were a bit too advanced for her at this stage. But she could still learn using the tools his tutors and mother had designed for him.
He moved across the room to kneel beside the toddler.
"My'own. Would you like to play a new game?"
She perked up. "Game?"
"Yes. A game from my home. You will have to make it appear."
Eagerly she reached out and grasped two fingers of his outstretched hand. Spock was suddenly very aware she was gripping the same two fingers bonded couples used in ozh'esta, a Vulcan kiss.
The tips of his ears tinged a deeper green but he did not pull away. He had just received his first kiss from an unrelated female. He could almost imagine the teasing remarks his mother would make if she knew it was from a toddler.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
"They hate me!" She whimpered, sobbing into his shirt.
Spock's grip tightened reflexively around her shoulders before shifting so she was sitting on his lap.
"They do not know enough to hate. They fear what is different."
She rubbed her face against his shoulder before speaking, her voice high-pitched and muffled.
"If this is fear, I don't want to be the target of hate."
His hand tightened on her. "Sometimes you are targeted no matter what you do. Xenophobia is illogical but very prevalent. You should know this. Many in your world hate based on religion, life style, or even skin tone."
"I know, I know. But that doesn't mean I don't wish things were different."
He hesitated. "You can ask your parents to change your school. Send you to a lower grade with your own age mates."
Hermione shook her head vigorously, her messy hair brushing against his nose.
"No! I'm not going to dumb myself and do finger-painting and read alphabet books because kids are too stupid to accept that I'm smarter than they are!"
She jerked back and glared at him. "And you better do the same Spock! Don't you dare kow-tow to match expected norms. You are far more brilliant than any of those bigoted fools! I just wish I could be there to see their faces when your results best theirs."
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Hermione sniffed as Spock confessed what had happened that day: the pureblood Vulcan insulting his mother Amanda and his human heritage, his shameful loss of control, the fight in the Learning Bowls. Violence was not a logical response.
"Don't," she whispered as she hugged the stoic older boy. "The blame lies with him." She resisted the urge to touch his bare skin, to convey her support more intimately. She knew skin-on-skin contact for his people was like kissing someone, like a friend on the cheek or like how her parents kissed each other.
"My loss of control is regrettable." He spoke in Vulcan, his voice muffled.
"The cause was sufficient," she responded in the same language. "His actions were illogical and he was not responding to civilized attempts to curb his behaviour."
Contact with a Vulcan boy - even in the mind and through dreams - had changed Hermione Granger. Most young children lacked the necessary long-term memory and capacity to reason. But not her. The moment her mind first touched Spock's it changed, developed the eidetic and reasoning capabilities of a Vulcan. Constant contact with Spock reinforced and expanded those qualities. She matured and progressed intellectually at a rate that left her peers in the dust. And she was not demonstrating the full range of her intellect, her knowledge of advanced maths and sciences that had not even been discovered or developed yet, histories and cultures of worlds her people had no clue about. In her waking hours, at home and school, she watched the current news and read middle school science and math text books while others in her age group were still studying their letters and finger painting. Her teachers had been at a loss and had recommended her parents enrol her in an accelerated program.
Hermione loved the freedom of working at her own pace but she had few friends. Spock was all she needed: companion, teacher, friend, mentor, partner. He was on her list of most precious people, a very short one containing just him, her parents and grandparents. He did not always understand her but he listened and did not judge. And so she tried to return the favour, to provide comfort and unwavering acceptance.
In a weird way she was much more fortunate than him, she had family who were not afraid to say and show how much they cared for her. Spock lived on Vulcan where they frowned on emotional displays. And no matter how much Spock claimed otherwise, he was part human and needed them. Since he could not have that in the physical world Hermione made it a priority to give it to him in their shared mental-astral space.
"He shames the Teachings of Surak. He is prejudiced and illogical. He and others like him pay lip service to IDIC and live their lives against IDIC."
Hermione wished she could somehow go to where Spock lived. If she could somehow lay her hands on that bully… oooh she was so mad she didn't know what she'd do! But she knew it would make that prejudiced bigot's life very unpleasant.
Spock was her friend. Hermione Granger protected her friends.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Hermione frowned as the Learning Bowl program ended. She clambered up the steep sides.
"I'm done!" she announced.
Spock looked up from his own PADD. "Any comments?"
She wrinkled her nose. "It was too easy. Are you sure the math is supposed to be from a higher grade?"
He looked at her sharply. "How was it too easy? It is two terms ahead of the last math unit simulation."
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "Do you want to look and see?" She held out a hand.
He considered the offer and nodded before reaching out to touch her fingers lightly then more firmly, wrapping her hand in his. He ignored the queasy feeling in his stomach. This was a dream-world. There was no logical reason for him to get sick.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Spock frowned as he reviewed the results of their latest experiments. He was running out of ideas. It seemed like there were no limits to what Hermione could do. At least in their dream-world. There would probably be limitations imposed by physical reality but how restrictive would they be? Hermione had mentioned she became tired quicker trying to duplicate feats she could easily perform in the dream-world. Would it be possible to get around them using alternate power sources or focusing devices?
Spock knew they could design such tools and build them in the dream-world, or in Spock's time, but it would be unlikely she could do so given the technology and material limitations of Earth in her time.
For the five hundred and forty seventh time Spock wished she had been born in his time. That he had met her in real life when they were children. She was the one being close to his age who he considered as a friend.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Hermione practiced the math, science, and languages Spock taught her during her waking hours. She spent more time writing out the script, both ancient and modern dialects from memory because she did not have access to the PADDs of her dream world. Her parents were confused by the odd unknown language their daughter almost constantly wrote in but dismissed it as a child's game.
She did not bother trying to explain because they would never believe her. And she really did not want to be forced to talk to a therapist about her 'mental break'.
Her pencil unconsciously formed the ancient glyphs for a concept out of emotional, pre-Surakian poetry. T'hy'la. She was not certain why she was so drawn to it. Spock had been reluctant to explain the term to her. She practically had to drag the explanation from him during a meld. Even so it was rather vague. A term used to describe someone who a Vulcan would consider a friend, sibling, and romantic partner in one.
T'hy'la.
She had a nagging feeling it was more than that… something very important.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
He watched her twirl around under the vast black expanse of space above looking very much like a fey-creature from some fairy tale dressed in sheer layers of white and the palest of blues and purple. His heart rate increased five point seven percent. He was suddenly very aware his body was changing, maturing.
But she had not.
Oh she had, but not at the same rate as him. She was three years younger than him, too young, too fragile, too delicate.
He forced himself to look away. It was illogical. He was betrothed. When his Time came he would be bound to T'Pring.
It was illogical to wish things were different, that they could meet in the physical world.
Suddenly he was very aware of how much he depended upon Hermione. When he hurt and his mother failed to change his 'mood', Hermione could. When he succeeded, he wanted to share the path and results with her. When he had ideas, he wanted to listen to her feedback on his work.
Unlike most Vulcans, Spock deliberately slept as much as a Human would, so he could be with her. His parents believed he was engaged in private meditation when he was sleeping. And it was not exactly a lie, his time with her did have a refreshing effect on his psyche. His mother suspected something was off but his father rarely paid attention to Spock's private habits.
They could not continue like this indefinitely. They could not live in their shared dream-world forever. Reality was out there and both of them had to prepare themselves to survive and thrive in it.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Hermione stared at the Vulcan teen dressed in a neat dark grey tunic and matching trousers. He was looking away from her, his face in profile providing an eye-catching view of his angular features, the graceful curves and pointed tip of one ear. His hair was dark and sleek, lying smoothly and cut in a polished bowl-cut that only accented the pointed ears and angular brows.
"You can't mean this." She fought to keep her voice from trembling. She would not shame herself before him by losing emotional control.
He was S'chn T'gai Spah'k, son of Sarek, scion to the House of Surak, the equivalent of a Prince on a different planet, in a place and time she would never see.
He turned around to face her squarely. Hermione resisted the urge to tug at her clothes. She knew her pale-blue Vulcan-style dress was perfect. She had copied it from one of Spock's memories of Amanda Grayson, his mother.
"It is best." His pitch fluctuated. He was thirteen Standard-years and had just experienced his first growth spurt due to puberty. Hermione was still a ten-year-old girl. "We have determined we are from different points in space and time. Space can be overcome but time cannot." His expression turned solemn. "I cannot be the friend you need in your waking hours Hermione. You need friends who can be there for you in ways I cannot. It is best you find them among your own kind."
Hermione lost control. "That is a stupid excuse!" she cried out. Then her voice softened. "You know what it is like for me Spock. Everyone hates me; they call me a know-it-all, a teacher's pet who breaks the grading curve. But when you're with me, it doesn't matter." She burst into tears. "Please don't leave me Spahk!"
His expression turned pained for a brief moment before smoothing out. "Hermione… My'own-kam, this is not a decision I made lightly. I spent hours meditating on the implications of our friendship and the cost-benefits." He hesitated before continuing. "You know it is my desire to attend the Vulcan Science Academy."
"Yes. But what does that have to do with us?" Her voice was wobbly.
"I must begin my preparations for the Entrance Exams; and part of the requirements is absolute control over the conscious and subconscious. I have to control my dreams, My'own-kam. Once that happens I will not be able to 'connect' with you, since most of this construct is generated and controlled by your powers, not mine."
Understanding dawned.
"But what about after the Exam? After you graduate?" Hermione was grasping at straws. She did not want to lose Spock.
"It is best if it is a clean break. From now on, I will focus on being purely Vulcan. And that includes limiting emotional attachments." His expression softened. "I cannot continue being the friend you need, but you will find others if you look for them." His hands lifted into the ta'al. "Live long and prosper."
Hermione blinked back tears as she mimicked the action and voiced the response. "Peace and long life." She inhaled deeply. "I hope you find what you are looking for, Spahk cha Sarek." She turned away, refusing to look at him anymore.
He was leaving her, so she would leave him behind, too. She began walking. The walls and floors dissolved into motes of light and swirls of power. Hermione did not look back. He was Vulcan, so certain of his logic that he rarely considered other options. Her strides became longer, faster. He was so fixed on his path that no one could deter him. Tears were pouring down her face now. If she looked back she would break down and weep hysterically. She did have her pride and was determined not to let him see that.
She was alone now. She felt she would always be so.
~o~
Hermione woke with tears on her cheeks. Spock was gone. She was never going to see him again. She burst into loud noisy sobs, waking her parents.
"Hermione? What's wrong dear?" Her mum. Ko-mekh.
"Was it a bad dream pumpkin?" Her dad. Sa-mekh.
She threw herself into her mother's arms and cried, hoping Spock was right.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
Mark and Jane Granger glanced at each other before studying their daughter, their only child, their little genius, their little miracle. Hermione had always been a loner and strong despite it. She had never allowed the stings and barbs of the jealous and envious to bother her. Until a few months ago. After she had woken from that nightmare she still refused to talk about.
Her teachers had commented on her new tendency to draw back and avoid any activity involving others. She had just barely finished the last school year in the top ten, when usually she always took the top spot. They had tried to determine exactly what had changed and failed. Now a new school year had just started, and the Grangers were giving serious thought to changing schools. Perhaps the accelerated program was putting too much pressure on her.
"Dad, are any of your role-playing friends playing some kind of joke?"
"What do you mean, pumpkin?"
Hermione passed over a sheet of heavy parchment, folded and sealed with wax and a stylized seal crest depicting a quartered shield with the letter H in the middle.
Mark Granger scanned the letter quickly and passed it over to his wife who read it in turn.
"The parchment is too heavy and expensive for a practical joke," Mark pointed out. "And that nonsense about magic and witches and wizards?"
Hermione hesitated. "You know I can do odd things. What if others call it magic?"
"Do you believe the letter is real?" Jane looked at her daughter.
Hermione considered the question. "I don't know," she admitted. "All I'm saying is let's keep an open mind. The letter does say someone will be visiting tomorrow afternoon to answer our questions. So why don't we make a list of questions for whoever stops by?"
"That makes sense." Mark glanced at his wife who nodded in agreement.
Hermione concentrated on finishing her porridge. Given her past contact with an alien boy from a distant future, Hermione was not as sceptical as her parents. Spock had said the construct where they met was shaped by her own mental energies. Perhaps it was called magic by others with the same energies and manipulation abilities.
An ember of excitement sparked with renewed life. She could find friends in this school called Hogwarts, friends who were 'magical' and human like herself, human friends who'd understand and accept her.
For the first time in a long while Hermione was excited and looking forward something.
That night she went to bed with happy, eager thoughts. She did not go to bed hoping Spock would change his mind and reach out to connect with her. She didn't think on him. He was part of her past and put away from her conscious awareness like her childhood toys. Her interest and intellect had a new focus: magic and Hogwarts.
She couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.
~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~
TBC…
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