Logophilia
For celandineb, for naming my iPod.
Title: Logophilia
Author: Tayefeth
Character: ickle-firstie Hermione
Prompt: "palpable"
Warnings: unbeta-ed, baby-geekiness, foreshadowed disappointment
Hermione hated being unable to find exactly the right words for her ideas. She knew that most of her primary school classmates were content with their limitted vocabularies, but she also knew that the adult world prized the "mot juste" as her mother had once christened a particularly clever phrase.
Now, as Hermione waved to her parents through the windows of the Hogwarts Express, she struggled to find the perfect adjective to describe her excitement. She had spent the summer reading Hogwarts, A History. She knew all about the four Founders and their houses, about the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, and about the Sorting Hat. She had read ahead in her textbooks and thrilled to the realization that the perfect words truly were magical.
Hermione settled into a compartment across from a nervous, rotund boy, giving him a quicksilver smile. Finally, she was on her way to a place where everyone would understand her obsession with words and with learning. She reached for her guilty pleasure, the one Muggle book she had managed to cram into her bags. As her hand trailed over the pouch containing her wand, the word came to her. Her excitement, she decided, really was palpable.
Title: Logophilia
Author: Tayefeth
Character: ickle-firstie Hermione
Prompt: "palpable"
Warnings: unbeta-ed, baby-geekiness, foreshadowed disappointment
Hermione hated being unable to find exactly the right words for her ideas. She knew that most of her primary school classmates were content with their limitted vocabularies, but she also knew that the adult world prized the "mot juste" as her mother had once christened a particularly clever phrase.
Now, as Hermione waved to her parents through the windows of the Hogwarts Express, she struggled to find the perfect adjective to describe her excitement. She had spent the summer reading Hogwarts, A History. She knew all about the four Founders and their houses, about the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, and about the Sorting Hat. She had read ahead in her textbooks and thrilled to the realization that the perfect words truly were magical.
Hermione settled into a compartment across from a nervous, rotund boy, giving him a quicksilver smile. Finally, she was on her way to a place where everyone would understand her obsession with words and with learning. She reached for her guilty pleasure, the one Muggle book she had managed to cram into her bags. As her hand trailed over the pouch containing her wand, the word came to her. Her excitement, she decided, really was palpable.