FIC: In the Thick of It (G; Severus, original characters, Hermione; 1454 words)
Title: In the Thick of It
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Severus, original characters, Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 1454
Summary: Severus takes to haunting the Janus Thickey Ward.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Author's Note: This might have been a Category Four pinch-hit for the 2023 run of snapecase, but it wasn't. ;P
It was as stunning a piece of spellwork as Severus had ever seen, and he couldn't look away: Brendan McDaniels, Auror, lately (like Severus, himself) dead but revived before any unmanageable damage could be done to his person, was dancing, dancing with his wife in the Janus Thickey Ward. Dancing - without moving at all. The shimmering, whole-bodied form of McDaniels, arms wrapped around his blonde, apple-cheeked wife, was waltzing her around the room whilst he lay, smiling but paralysed, mere feet away.
It was magnificent, the Alter Spell - and what fascinated him most was that he had no idea how it had been achieved.
Usually, Severus despised not knowing things, not knowing where things came from - food, clothing, magical underpinnings - but not this time. The potions that he'd been brewing to prevent McDaniels' phantom limbs pain had kept him in close contact with the man since Severus had awoken and moved slowly along his own path of recovery. McDaniels was undemanding company, pleasant, and in the aftermath, an undemanding, pleasant, and it needed to be remembered, not in the slightest bit nosy man was most welcome company, indeed. As well, Severus truly liked McDaniels, who was in possession of a working mind that he actually put to good use.
Magnificent, Severus thought, again, though this time he meant the fact that McDaniels was an Auror with more than half a working mind.
The McDanielses looked blissful, swaying against one another and in time with the music, and for an intrusive half-moment, Severus felt loneliness well up inside of him before it burst into nothingness. His friend was happy, and that was magnificent.
Merlin! Where have my words gone?
Severus' mind was not usually so slow, but since his own recovery depended upon the judicious use of powerful pain management, just as did McDaniels' own pain, he wasn't in quite the speediest place, thought-wise. It would have irritated him more than it did but for another potion brought to him by Minerva. She explained that it was a modified Calming Draught, one of Albus' own. That, in fact, it was the very draught that Albus had admixed with his Lemon Sherberts. Hearing that, Severus had taken it without another thought.
He'd read Albus' letters during his recovery, read the private journals - well, begun reading them; there were hundreds of the damned things - and he had a more complete understanding of what the Headmaster's life had been like. It didn't forgive anything as far as Severus was concerned, but . . . .
Albus Dumbledore had been, for all his faults, rather magnificent, too, and he'd saved the world, wizarding and otherwise, upon so many unheralded occasions that Severus now felt he could trust whatever potions Albus had taken to manage his own anxieties.
To think we might be under the control of the Goblinate if not for him, Severus thought, shuddering to remember the entries on a renewed spirit of martialism amongst goblinkind.
He did not permit himself to think about the house-elf situation.
Mrs. McDaniels giggled. Severus looked up. He could not help but smile to see McDaniels' own expression; it wasn't just his Alter: he radiated a happy light from his own face. Severus decided that he'd seen enough and moved to leave the ward. He wanted to complete the potions for the Children's Ward.
"Wait, please?"
"Forgive me, Mrs. McDaniels. I didn't mean to intrude."
"Severus, please? Do come join us for a moment. Please."
"Good evening," Severus replied, as he did so.
"The potions you've brewed for my Brendan, they help him ever so much. We're both very grateful to you."
"There's no need -"
"Of course there is!" McDaniels' Alter interjected.
Severus tried very hard not to turn towards where McDaniels was actually propped up on his bed.
The Alter continued. "You could be doing so many other things with your, er, 'ever after', and yet, you've chosen to stay, to help people, to help me. I'll never be able to thank you enough."
Severus' cheeks were cold, but still, he felt as though he were blushing. "You're welcome. I wouldn't, well, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I weren't brewing."
With that, he glided away from the pair, marvelling anew at the Alter spell. Magnificent.
The flesh-and-blood McDaniels winked at Severus as he went by, and it suddenly occurred to Severus that perhaps there was some . . . awkwardness involved in the use of a magical Alter. Before that thought could fully develop, however, he shook his head to clear it. There were some things that friends shouldn't contemplate.
Indeed, thought Severus, turning his mind to the issue of the Children's Ward potions. He had so very much to do, and if he didn't get downstairs to his assistant, said assistant might go home.
They don't make assistants the way they used to, Severus told himself, almost braining himself on a wall.
He was, perhaps, working too hard. Perhaps it would be a good idea, as Minerva had suggested, to get out more.
~*~
"He seems sweet," Daisy McDaniels murmured, into her husband's hair.
The Alter's arms wrapped themselves around her for Brendan, who no longer had the fleshly use of them, or indeed, both of them.
"I know. He's not like he was."
"Is it odd, his not knowing?"
"That he died?" asked Brendan.
"Yes."
"Well, there are only so many examples of the phenomenon that I can bring to mind, so I don't rightly know, but under the circumstances . . . ."
"Yes, under the circumstances, being so violently attacked and dying here amidst all the chaos of that night . . . ."
"I'll never not be grateful for his researches, or for the masters at the Guild for completing the Alter spell. It's almost, it's almost -"
"Brendan," whispered Daisy, "oh, Brendan, it's good. Different, but good - I've not lost you. We can still, we are together, Brendan."
"I love you, Daisy. I'm so sor -"
"No, don't. You needn't apologise, not to anyone."
"I wish I'd found him sooner, Severus, I mean."
"You had three limbs hexed off, darling. You're forgiven. He forgives you."
"Severus doesn't even know, Daisy."
"He may not want to know, but I think he does. He has his own Alter after all, doesn't he?"
"Well, it's not quite the same, but he and Granger do good work together. They're helping people."
"They helped us."
"Yeah," Brendan said, as Daisy leaned down into his kiss. Magnificent, he thought, feeling rather overwhelmed by his own miraculous good luck.
~*~
"They're canoodling, Granger."
"Good," she remarked, with a smile.
"You don't even look up anymore."
"Don't start, mister. I've been staying late all week trying to do as you asked. Ron misses me."
"Ronald misses most things." Severus smirked and levitated into a sitting position over a stool. "How much longer before the Dragon Pox booster potion needs stirring?"
Granger did look up, then. "You know, you might try using that Alter spell of ours. You could do more stirring yourself."
"We've discussed that. It won't work on me, not as long as I'm taking Dumbledore's concoction. Contraindicated."
Hermione glanced at the stoppered bottle of the potion in question that sat in a cabinet by the door. "Yes, I . . . suppose that's true."
"You sound doubtful," said Severus.
"Do I? Really? How very odd."
"Oh, very well, Granger. Go home to your husband. I will see you tomorrow."
"Severus, it is tomorrow, and there is still stirring to be done. I'll leave after decanting this batch. In the meantime, turn your attention to the hovering quill and parchment and start giving notes on the modifications we discussed to the Draught of Living Death as it relates to the Alter spellwork."
"Why? It's late. I don't want to -"
"Work?" interrupted Granger. "What else have you to do?"
"That's not nice."
Granger looked at him in apparent partial amusement.
"Oh, very well. I shall take myself off to the corner of the lab and dictate my thoughts."
"Good. You're almost happy when you do that."
"I was happy to see McDaniels happy, he and his wife."
Granger did smile, then. "It's magnificent spellwork, Severus, truly."
"Yes, I know."
Granger snorted.
"I mean that I value the work we did on it, together. You are one of the brightest -"
Granger looked back down at her work. "I am the brightest witch of my age. I accept that. You should, too."
Severus smirked at her arrogant words even though he entirely agreed with them and thought, Swot.
Still, he was grateful to have her in his life. They worked so very well together that he could not imagine his life without her.
But I shall never tell you that, Granger. Not ever.
Praise an assistant too much and she might leave one . . . .
Author:
iulia_linnea
Characters: Severus, original characters, Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 1454
Summary: Severus takes to haunting the Janus Thickey Ward.
Disclaimer: This work of fan fiction is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made from (and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by) the posting of this fan work.
Author's Note: This might have been a Category Four pinch-hit for the 2023 run of snapecase, but it wasn't. ;P
It was as stunning a piece of spellwork as Severus had ever seen, and he couldn't look away: Brendan McDaniels, Auror, lately (like Severus, himself) dead but revived before any unmanageable damage could be done to his person, was dancing, dancing with his wife in the Janus Thickey Ward. Dancing - without moving at all. The shimmering, whole-bodied form of McDaniels, arms wrapped around his blonde, apple-cheeked wife, was waltzing her around the room whilst he lay, smiling but paralysed, mere feet away.
It was magnificent, the Alter Spell - and what fascinated him most was that he had no idea how it had been achieved.
Usually, Severus despised not knowing things, not knowing where things came from - food, clothing, magical underpinnings - but not this time. The potions that he'd been brewing to prevent McDaniels' phantom limbs pain had kept him in close contact with the man since Severus had awoken and moved slowly along his own path of recovery. McDaniels was undemanding company, pleasant, and in the aftermath, an undemanding, pleasant, and it needed to be remembered, not in the slightest bit nosy man was most welcome company, indeed. As well, Severus truly liked McDaniels, who was in possession of a working mind that he actually put to good use.
Magnificent, Severus thought, again, though this time he meant the fact that McDaniels was an Auror with more than half a working mind.
The McDanielses looked blissful, swaying against one another and in time with the music, and for an intrusive half-moment, Severus felt loneliness well up inside of him before it burst into nothingness. His friend was happy, and that was magnificent.
Merlin! Where have my words gone?
Severus' mind was not usually so slow, but since his own recovery depended upon the judicious use of powerful pain management, just as did McDaniels' own pain, he wasn't in quite the speediest place, thought-wise. It would have irritated him more than it did but for another potion brought to him by Minerva. She explained that it was a modified Calming Draught, one of Albus' own. That, in fact, it was the very draught that Albus had admixed with his Lemon Sherberts. Hearing that, Severus had taken it without another thought.
He'd read Albus' letters during his recovery, read the private journals - well, begun reading them; there were hundreds of the damned things - and he had a more complete understanding of what the Headmaster's life had been like. It didn't forgive anything as far as Severus was concerned, but . . . .
Albus Dumbledore had been, for all his faults, rather magnificent, too, and he'd saved the world, wizarding and otherwise, upon so many unheralded occasions that Severus now felt he could trust whatever potions Albus had taken to manage his own anxieties.
To think we might be under the control of the Goblinate if not for him, Severus thought, shuddering to remember the entries on a renewed spirit of martialism amongst goblinkind.
He did not permit himself to think about the house-elf situation.
Mrs. McDaniels giggled. Severus looked up. He could not help but smile to see McDaniels' own expression; it wasn't just his Alter: he radiated a happy light from his own face. Severus decided that he'd seen enough and moved to leave the ward. He wanted to complete the potions for the Children's Ward.
"Wait, please?"
"Forgive me, Mrs. McDaniels. I didn't mean to intrude."
"Severus, please? Do come join us for a moment. Please."
"Good evening," Severus replied, as he did so.
"The potions you've brewed for my Brendan, they help him ever so much. We're both very grateful to you."
"There's no need -"
"Of course there is!" McDaniels' Alter interjected.
Severus tried very hard not to turn towards where McDaniels was actually propped up on his bed.
The Alter continued. "You could be doing so many other things with your, er, 'ever after', and yet, you've chosen to stay, to help people, to help me. I'll never be able to thank you enough."
Severus' cheeks were cold, but still, he felt as though he were blushing. "You're welcome. I wouldn't, well, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I weren't brewing."
With that, he glided away from the pair, marvelling anew at the Alter spell. Magnificent.
The flesh-and-blood McDaniels winked at Severus as he went by, and it suddenly occurred to Severus that perhaps there was some . . . awkwardness involved in the use of a magical Alter. Before that thought could fully develop, however, he shook his head to clear it. There were some things that friends shouldn't contemplate.
Indeed, thought Severus, turning his mind to the issue of the Children's Ward potions. He had so very much to do, and if he didn't get downstairs to his assistant, said assistant might go home.
They don't make assistants the way they used to, Severus told himself, almost braining himself on a wall.
He was, perhaps, working too hard. Perhaps it would be a good idea, as Minerva had suggested, to get out more.
~*~
"He seems sweet," Daisy McDaniels murmured, into her husband's hair.
The Alter's arms wrapped themselves around her for Brendan, who no longer had the fleshly use of them, or indeed, both of them.
"I know. He's not like he was."
"Is it odd, his not knowing?"
"That he died?" asked Brendan.
"Yes."
"Well, there are only so many examples of the phenomenon that I can bring to mind, so I don't rightly know, but under the circumstances . . . ."
"Yes, under the circumstances, being so violently attacked and dying here amidst all the chaos of that night . . . ."
"I'll never not be grateful for his researches, or for the masters at the Guild for completing the Alter spell. It's almost, it's almost -"
"Brendan," whispered Daisy, "oh, Brendan, it's good. Different, but good - I've not lost you. We can still, we are together, Brendan."
"I love you, Daisy. I'm so sor -"
"No, don't. You needn't apologise, not to anyone."
"I wish I'd found him sooner, Severus, I mean."
"You had three limbs hexed off, darling. You're forgiven. He forgives you."
"Severus doesn't even know, Daisy."
"He may not want to know, but I think he does. He has his own Alter after all, doesn't he?"
"Well, it's not quite the same, but he and Granger do good work together. They're helping people."
"They helped us."
"Yeah," Brendan said, as Daisy leaned down into his kiss. Magnificent, he thought, feeling rather overwhelmed by his own miraculous good luck.
~*~
"They're canoodling, Granger."
"Good," she remarked, with a smile.
"You don't even look up anymore."
"Don't start, mister. I've been staying late all week trying to do as you asked. Ron misses me."
"Ronald misses most things." Severus smirked and levitated into a sitting position over a stool. "How much longer before the Dragon Pox booster potion needs stirring?"
Granger did look up, then. "You know, you might try using that Alter spell of ours. You could do more stirring yourself."
"We've discussed that. It won't work on me, not as long as I'm taking Dumbledore's concoction. Contraindicated."
Hermione glanced at the stoppered bottle of the potion in question that sat in a cabinet by the door. "Yes, I . . . suppose that's true."
"You sound doubtful," said Severus.
"Do I? Really? How very odd."
"Oh, very well, Granger. Go home to your husband. I will see you tomorrow."
"Severus, it is tomorrow, and there is still stirring to be done. I'll leave after decanting this batch. In the meantime, turn your attention to the hovering quill and parchment and start giving notes on the modifications we discussed to the Draught of Living Death as it relates to the Alter spellwork."
"Why? It's late. I don't want to -"
"Work?" interrupted Granger. "What else have you to do?"
"That's not nice."
Granger looked at him in apparent partial amusement.
"Oh, very well. I shall take myself off to the corner of the lab and dictate my thoughts."
"Good. You're almost happy when you do that."
"I was happy to see McDaniels happy, he and his wife."
Granger did smile, then. "It's magnificent spellwork, Severus, truly."
"Yes, I know."
Granger snorted.
"I mean that I value the work we did on it, together. You are one of the brightest -"
Granger looked back down at her work. "I am the brightest witch of my age. I accept that. You should, too."
Severus smirked at her arrogant words even though he entirely agreed with them and thought, Swot.
Still, he was grateful to have her in his life. They worked so very well together that he could not imagine his life without her.
But I shall never tell you that, Granger. Not ever.
Praise an assistant too much and she might leave one . . . .