Title: Expect (the Unexpected)
Author: Saydria Wolfe
Fandom: Harry Potter, Star Trek
Characters: Sirius Black/OFC, OCs
Prompt: Original Female Character
Word Count: 1649
Warning: No beta
Author’s Note: 1.) I wanted to bring together the two fandoms with the least in common I could think of. 2.) Originally T’Mal was a dude but I already did OMC so I changed it, I think it made things more interesting. 3.) There was a tumblr post that theorized Regulus = Crookshanks. I can’t find it any more but that is where the animagus form i mention for him is from. 4.) This is going to be expanded. I don’t know when I’ll be finished with it and I’m not going to estimate but I will post it when it’s done.
Summary: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” – Clarke’s Third Law
“Good one, James!” Sirius cheers as he returns spellfire.
Then he stops.
That’s… not right. He turns to look at Harry, his godson, and opens his mouth to apologize but something hits him in the chest. Red light, a stunner. He staggers backwards. He catches a view of his cousin Bella as he falls. For a moment she looks exactly how she did when he tricked her into swallowing a live goldfish at Cissa’s seventh birthday party. He laughs and-
T’Mal does not huff. She does not shift or sigh to show her displeasure either no matter how much she wants to. All of these, any of these, would be a disgraceful break in discipline for a Vulcan and no member of the House of Surak is ever disgraceful. If she did such a thing her grandfather would “have her fool hide,” as I’m-not-your-Uncle-dammit Bones would say.
They do not break discipline even if they are stuck on a research team with idiots.
Wormholes. Are. Circles. They naturally form in rounds. It is logical that the first attempts to form one artificially should be done along those same lines, saving unnatural shapes for once the experiment has proven itself, but no. The end goal is point to point travel for Vulcanoid beings and therefore their experimental device has been fashioned in a rectangle door-like shape to facilitate this end.
The additional bonus is that it saves space while they conduct the experiment on a space station but still.
Wormholes are round.
Just because you want to use it as a door does not make it a door or otherwise door shaped.
“Initiating activation sequence in 3,” The lead researcher on thier project Stilvass starts methodically hitting switches. “2, 1. Engaging.”
In a way.
The light is nothing like she expected, nothing like they hypothesized. It looks, well. It looks like a curtain. Ragged and dancing in the wind. It flashes over once and a physical body is falling out. A vaguely vulcanoid body or, she thinks wildly, a human body.
She rushes forward, the rash emotional voice of her Dad speaking louder to her in her head that the rational, logical voice of her Papa. She breaks the isolation zone just in time to catch him before he hits the floor. Definitely a him. They go down together. His body is so cool, she frowns. A function of the mode of travel or is he? She touches his wrist as lightly as she can and still take his pulse.
Under his skin a feeling draws her, calls to her. An overpowering feeling of safety but also his need and her welcome. A feeling of home. Before she can think twice, she touches a meld point on his face. The man convulses. His empty hand flails up and hits her, making contact with a meld point more through accident than design.
Lightning flashes over her mind, over her skin and her heart, and she knows a bond has formed.
“What?” She glances down at the human male. His eyes are blue. Not the rich ocean blue of her dad. No, her bondmate’s eyes are a blue that is almost white. Or silver, mostly like the eyes of Shadow the Husky dog dad had insisted they get when they finally settled down as a family on Earth.
“Oh,” Her new bondmate Sirius finishes smartly before he gives her a vague smile and passes out.
T’Mal anxiously runs her hands over the strange, small stick her bonded was clutching when he passed out. It is curious. The feedback she gets from the stick is amused, powerful, and safe. An echo of the mind of her new bonded. Even just touching this wand is the most safety she’s known since she and her elder brother knelt on the Ceremonial Sands of New Vulcan and accepted the parental telepathic bonds from both of her adopted fathers. A similar but distinctly more intimate feeling.
Which is as it should be, really.
“Are you listening, T’Mal?”
She turns away from the viewport and raises a single eyebrow at the Healer. Even for a Vulcan T’Sir is a raging bitch, to borrow Aunt ‘Yota’s prefered vernacular. “You are 95% certain my bondmate is human, however large sections of his brain -sections that are dormant in your records of standard Terrans- are active in him. He is also missing the additional organs of humans that adapted over the course of the Eugenics War and Earth’s World War III.
“Combine that with his outdated mode of dress and materials therein the logical conclusion is that he is a human from Earth’s past.”
Healer T’Sir raises a single eyebrow but finally shuts up.
“It is logical,” Stilvass agrees, willfully or perhaps logically ignoring the emotional tone of their exchange. “Wormholes theoretically bridge time and space. We failed to fully account for this in our theoretical proofs.”
T’Mar nods her agreement. Time must be a much larger variable than they had previously considered it.
“I would like to know how a theoretically historical Terran had access to advanced wormhole technology.” T’Sir tells their head scientist with a frown. “And why or how he used it.”
T’Mal is absolutely certain whatever happened was not actually her bonded’s choice but she can’t explain this feeling. Well, she could but she it does not behoove her to do so, so she remains silent on the matter.
“For now we need to ascertain whether it would be safe to return him to Earth,” She says instead. “It would be best for his mental health to be among his own kind and seen by their own healers. My fathers will also require to meet him.”
Both Vulcans incline their heads in agreement and an alarm goes off. Right next door.
Stilvass and T’Mal follow T’Sir out of the observation room and into the treatment room. The bed her bonded was just resting in is empty and an Andorian and a Betazoid orderly are facing off against something in the corner. Something that’s growling.
She pushes between the two males and comes chest to snout with the biggest damn dog she’s ever seen.
A dog that is the holder of her telepathic mate bond.
Teeth as long as her hand are bared as the beast growls again in warning but it –he- immediately stops growling at the sight of her.
Yellow eyes blink in confusion and his head tilts to one side in question.
She reaches out telepathically and touches his mind to hopefully communicate but, failing that, to understand. Understanding is what finds her.
She gets the image of an older, slightly terrifying woman -a teacher, obviously a teacher- in a tall and pointed black hat turning into a silver and black cat. The teacher turns back into a human, and then back into a cat. She gets the image of a boy that looks like her bondmate but with Betazoid black eyes grinning and turning into a giant orange cat with a smooshed face. She gets the image of a stag standing under the light of a setting moon. The stag silently changes into a boy wearing glasses. The boy laughs and holds out his fist. “That was brilliant, Pads!”
“Pads?” She asks cautiously as she pulls back from his mind.
The dog sits with a clumsy thunk. Her vision blurs and her bondmate is human once more, sitting in the exact position of the dog with his legs straight out before him, his hands resting palm down on the floor between them.
“You are T’Mal of the House of Surak, Daughter of James and Spock.”
It’s not a question, she blinks. “How?”
Silently, he pulls his right sleeve all the way up to his elbow and there, in High Vulcan script, complete with central staff going from the base of his palm to the bend of his elbow are the whirls and bends of her full name.
Where to even begin? “You can read that?”
He frowns down at his arm and after 3.5 seconds nods. “Book of Souls magic, I guess.”
“What is the Book of Souls?”
“Do you mean other than the book Merlin enchanted so that all who came after him might have the chance to find their One True Love?” He looks at her, sounding confused.
She glances at the other four beings still in the room. They are all looking at her bondmate with various shades of avarice and hope so she asks. “Does it still exist?”
“It has to,” He says plainly but then he stops to consider. “I’m certain it definitely had to exist whenever you first came to Earth, otherwise I never would have received your name when I did. I’m pretty sure it will have to be in existence at least until we bond. From what I remember, the enchantment determines the name it provides to the requester based on both the best compatibility and the person you are most likely to meet and form a full bond with at any anytime during it’s existence.”
“To clarify: your conclusion is that it had to still exist until we bonded otherwise it never would have been able to predict our bonding.”
“Almost. It has to still exist because we are not bonded.”
“Yes, we are,” She corrects.
He shakes his head. “I feel this,” he taps his forehead. “But this is not how my people bond, I don’t think it counts.”
“Or perhaps it simply will not register with this Book until you reach Earth?” The Andorian questions. “Earlier in your arguement, her arrival on Earth seemed significant.”
“Logically, he was simply acknowledging that she is not human and therefore not native to Earth,” Stilvass counters.
“Uh,” T’Mal and the rest of them all turn back to her bondmate, to Sirius, to see him looking decidedly pale. “We’re not on Earth?”
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