"Thank the Fae" by gingerbred Chapter 04
Yule be here for Christmas... Part 4
Our heroes aren't out of the woods yet... And they're working diligently on defining awkward.
We get a chance to see things from Hermione's point of view.
Originally Published: 2017-01-04 on AO3
Chapter: 4 / 13 of ?
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Notes:
Slight change in plan, we skip the Weasley scoop in favor of a peek at what happened with Hermione and Queen Mab, which I think provides more insight into her behavior over the next couple of chapters.
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of this and won't profit from it. All props to JKR, the fount of all things Potter canon.
Last Chapter:
Frankly, it's incredibly nice to have someone just take your side for once.
So she finds she can't stop looking at Severus. And he in turn is growing restless under her gaze.
And she stares at him.
She goggles. She makes a choking sound. And then in a flurry of movement she launches herself directly at him and her arms wrap tightly around his neck... And she's... hugging him.
His arms went up instinctively at the movement, and then realizing there was no imminent threat ('define "threat"!' something roars), just sort of hang there in the air for a breath before closing briefly, tentatively across her back, and he finds himself with a warm armful of witch.
Merlin.
Yule be here for Christmas... Part 4
-~HG/SS~-
Hermione's not exactly in a good place. (Well, she's at Hogwarts, so that's rather good, as things go. 'Actually, given I'm technically still in the Forbidden Forest, maybe that was correct the first time.') But emotionally, well, honestly, emotionally things are a bit of a muddle and have been for quite some time, if she's honest. And to make matters worse, Queen Mab has just said some things to her that have got her thinking (probably spinning her wheels), and she isn't quite sure what to make of it.
She's been coming quarterly to pay her respects to the Fae since her first visit on Midsummer two and a half years ago. She enjoys these visits and looks forward to them. Although nominally she's here to pay tribute, she truly considers herself privileged for the look this permits her into the Fae's world. Usually she leaves their celebrations with a sense of peace and wonder, but not this time. This time Mab has left her all at sixes and sevens.
For one thing, the Fae's queen told her that she's lonely. That's a very bizarre thing to have to be told. ('One would think one would notice it oneself first, but apparently one would be mistaken...') But it makes ('some') sense given the rest of what the faery said. She began by saying she'd like to see Hermione's "happiness increased" which is certainly odd ('but sounds pleasant enough on the face of things, all considered').
The faery followed by telling Hermione that she has been isolating herself for too long ('probably correct'), and that she is getting lost in her own inner world. (She's introverted and knows it; so that's probably a given.) Then Mab asserted that Hermione should open up to those around her if she "would be happier." The faery queen wouldn't be the first to think so, so there may well be something to it, beyond the magical.
And finally Mab concluded with one of those vague, elliptical statements that remind Hermione ('quite a bit') of Dumbledore. The Fae's queen told her that she has a colleague she is "close to" that she should "consider." Not what she should consider them, or for what either ('no hints to be had there'), or for that matter what "close" even means. She wishes, not for the first time, that people would speak more plainly if they have something to convey. ('It's a truly unnecessary and bothersome habit.')
For example, she's become much closer to Neville since she returned for her seventh year as he was starting his Herbology apprenticeship. And she considers him a good head of house, say. Or Minerva. She's been very close to the Headmistress since returning to Hogwarts and definitely since beginning her own Arithmancy apprenticeship. Hermione considers the older witch a good friend. Or there's Hagrid, whose hut is close by ('although he's in France visiting Olympe at the moment, actually...'). And so on... It's maddeningly vague and can mean anything or nothing, but Hermione can't help wondering if that is the point. The latitude to interpret it as she sees fit means the choices are ultimately hers. She prefers that notion to "fate," so maybe it's for the best.
So when just moments later she practically runs into the school's withdrawn Potions Master outside the glade, her surprise is great. So much so, that she nearly laughs, but doesn't, knowing it will be misunderstood. (She settles for a slightly lopsided smile instead. 'He'll probably take it for a smirk.') Was he the colleague Mab meant, or would that have been too on the nose? ('"Close!" Ha!') She's certain Severus is either on his way to or from the Fae's clearing, and although she wouldn't object in the least to learning why, she minds her own business ('only just') and engages him in polite conversation instead.
She is a bit preoccupied, however, and not just because of Mab's "happiness directive." The situation with her parents is truly painful, especially on birthdays and Christmas, and it probably hasn't helped that she doesn't really talk about it. (She concedes the point to Mab, again.) But talking about it is problematic.
For one thing, she's been encouraged not to do so to lessen the attention "it" receives and increase her chances of not being... punished. Punished, she would be quick to add, for having been forced by universal inaction and disregard to create this mess in the first place. ('As though the situation weren't punishment enough...') There will never be enough indignation to express her reaction to the Ministry's response to the matter.
For another, she's sort of run out of people on the very short ('and admittedly tacit') Ministry approved list (so much hate) with whom she can speak about it. And those people basically fall into three camps. The first group shuts her down with a gentle "try not to think about it, dear, so you can put it behind you." Because repression is so terribly healthy and effective as coping mechanisms go. The second group reflects that first problem and echoes the party line, "best not to speak of it, lest charges are pressed." They do so either because they agree with the Ministry ('like Harry') and think she will eventually see reason (and so she discovers just how much she has been underestimating people's rampant stupidity), or because they're pragmatic (in which case their lack of righteous indignation is simply galling to her). The third group is frankly bored to tears, and tries desperately to change the subject. It's possible she's doing them an injustice; perhaps they are merely uncomfortable and looking for more pleasant topics, but the end effect for her is the same.
Ultimately the root of that last problem is the worst she has to face: there's really nothing new to say. There are no changes, no updates. Her quandaries, legal, ethical or purely emotional, once run through, remain unvarying. If she rails against the Ministry, she'll have nothing substantial to add since her last rant. Or the ten before that. All her arguments are unendingly cyclic. That fact doesn't lessen her pain in the least, but it does tend to kill a conversation.
And faced with the impending holidays, yet another without her family, and estranged from her friends, she's feeling a bit lonely and sorry for herself and ('slightly') overwhelmed, and she indulges herself ('just a smidgeon') and seeks a human connection. The Ministry be damned, she won't be muzzled. She'll speak to whomever she pleases. And so she finds herself telling the Potions Master about her problems. (Just maybe Mab put this bee in her bonnet.)
Intuitively she feels confident that he won't defend the Ministry. She is certain he will understand the reasons for her actions and won't judge. ('It probably helps that even great Neptune's ocean couldn't wash his hands clean... Which is completely unfair, really, given his position,' and she'd apologize immediately if she had actually said it. 'But it was too fittingly snarky not to have thought it.') He hasn't heard her story before, so he shouldn't be ('completely') bored by her tale. And she doubts he would pass it off as "best not thought about," because she is absolutely positive he is a world class brooder. ('The Severus/Lily stories alone would seem to indicate he doesn't let things go, either, so a wallower of the first water, then. Although "wallowing" sounds overly negative...')
She's comfortable ruling a lot of things out, but what she's less sure about is his actual reaction. Some mixture of isolation on her part coupled with the fact that, whatever his reaction is, at least it should be something new emboldens her, and she finds herself telling him the whole sad story. Well, not the bits about Harry. Or her frustrations with the Ministry. But the rest. Mostly.
But then without her saying a word about it, he completely extrapolates the Ministry's role in her misery. ('My, but there's plenty to be said for intelligence. And probably experience, too.') And then he takes her side.
And it's amazing. And he tells her all this ('so very unlike him to put himself out there, but he does'), and it's the best thing she's heard in... months. ('Maybe longer.') And in her weakened, connection-starved state she suddenly finds herself overwhelmed and acting entirely on impulse and... hugging him.
Possibly assaulting him, if she were to stick to the facts of the matter.
He immediately stiffens under her touch, and she's so sorry, because his body goes thoroughly rigid. But he has put his arms around her in response, so there's that. (Vaguely she is aware that as she lunged, his arms went up defensively, and then they were sort of flapping about uncomfortably, 'and he probably just needed a place to park them... But still...')
And this sad little hug is the closest thing to physical affection that she's experienced in so long... probably since before she and Harry parted ways ('in every meaningful sense of the words'). And now she's feeling pretty pathetic, and trying desperately not to sob. And then he makes what might be the world's most awkward soothing gestures, sort of clapping one hand on her shoulder, thump, thump, thump, as his other arm still lies, erm... parked around her waist. But she finds it incredibly endearing. It pulls her right out of her funk. She almost giggles, for goodness sake. ('Of course it's an emotional roller coaster, but no less genuine for it.') He didn't ask for this, any of this. What he asked was a presumably innocent question, and suddenly he's dropped a monumental clanger instead. Then he gets hit with all... this. And still he's trying to put on his most decent face.
She's incredibly grateful.
It helps, of course, that Hermione is one to consider the source. Years of close association with friends less emotionally ('or intellectually') gifted have taught her to adjust her expectations, and she is surprisingly good at it now. It won't prevent her from nagging, but she grades interpersonal interactions on a sliding scale by force of habit. For Minerva this would be a poor showing ('Troll'). Even Filius would do much better ('Poor'). (Although neither would encourage her to question the Ministry's fairness, 'each for their own reasons, Camps One and Two (subset b), respectively...') But for Severus, this is truly something else ('Outstanding'). And he's in a camp all his own.
Which is why she is immediately sorry to have pounced on him in such a fashion. This is a very poor reward for his kindness, to make him even more uncomfortable and impose further upon him. But then, the embrace wasn't actually meant to be a reward now, was it? She was overwrought and overcome and expressed herself suitably. Well, perhaps not suited to him, but where words fail... Gestures prevail.
But truth be told, she finds herself in a better place than she did just moments ago, by which the cheeky witch may or may not mean a certain tall wizard's arms.
And so they stand, holding one another. His arms loosely around her, one hand thumping comfortingly, if awkwardly, on her shoulder. Thump, thump, thump. Her face remains pressed to his warm chest, hiding first her tearing eyes and then her giggle. Reflexively, she starts to snuggle against him, but it's so subtle a movement before she catches herself and breaks it off that she hopes he won't have noticed. He smells good, and she can detect the scents of herbs from some of the potions he's been working on, and a note of... cider? (Maybe he's made some for the staff Christmas party again!) His winter cloak is soft and not at all scratchy against her face, and she thinks she can hear his heart beating a tattoo in counterpoint to his claps.
Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa. Thump, thump, thump.
It's pleasant (for her) and a welcome change. Too bad it can't last.
Notes:
As always, concrit and feedback are appreciated, and I can never get enough love...
In the next chapter, our heroes still aren't out of the woods, and they have a ways yet to the castle, all whilst working diligently on personifying awkward. And we return to our usual Severus centric point of view.
A/N: Rabid experimentation has led to a solution (of sorts, possibly: "foul") to the formatting issues plaguing me. The inclusion of HTML (explicitly or automatically, the latter of which was a bugbear to track down, particularly as not necessarily displayed. (Seriously??? Oh, just shoot me now...)) in the notes at the top (but only at the top...) of the page seems to cause the pleasantly enlarged display on tablets to barf. (That's probably the technical term for it. Sure it is.)
Once again, anyone with a clue, please feel super encouraged to leave me a comment with the right vocabulary words, so I can happily Google away, or, y'know go FAQ it. Ta.
xox
Ginger
Our heroes aren't out of the woods yet... And they're working diligently on defining awkward.
We get a chance to see things from Hermione's point of view.
Originally Published: 2017-01-04 on AO3
Chapter: 4 / 13 of ?
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Notes:
Slight change in plan, we skip the Weasley scoop in favor of a peek at what happened with Hermione and Queen Mab, which I think provides more insight into her behavior over the next couple of chapters.
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of this and won't profit from it. All props to JKR, the fount of all things Potter canon.
Last Chapter:
Frankly, it's incredibly nice to have someone just take your side for once.
So she finds she can't stop looking at Severus. And he in turn is growing restless under her gaze.
And she stares at him.
She goggles. She makes a choking sound. And then in a flurry of movement she launches herself directly at him and her arms wrap tightly around his neck... And she's... hugging him.
His arms went up instinctively at the movement, and then realizing there was no imminent threat ('define "threat"!' something roars), just sort of hang there in the air for a breath before closing briefly, tentatively across her back, and he finds himself with a warm armful of witch.
Merlin.
Yule be here for Christmas... Part 4
-~HG/SS~-
Hermione's not exactly in a good place. (Well, she's at Hogwarts, so that's rather good, as things go. 'Actually, given I'm technically still in the Forbidden Forest, maybe that was correct the first time.') But emotionally, well, honestly, emotionally things are a bit of a muddle and have been for quite some time, if she's honest. And to make matters worse, Queen Mab has just said some things to her that have got her thinking (probably spinning her wheels), and she isn't quite sure what to make of it.
She's been coming quarterly to pay her respects to the Fae since her first visit on Midsummer two and a half years ago. She enjoys these visits and looks forward to them. Although nominally she's here to pay tribute, she truly considers herself privileged for the look this permits her into the Fae's world. Usually she leaves their celebrations with a sense of peace and wonder, but not this time. This time Mab has left her all at sixes and sevens.
For one thing, the Fae's queen told her that she's lonely. That's a very bizarre thing to have to be told. ('One would think one would notice it oneself first, but apparently one would be mistaken...') But it makes ('some') sense given the rest of what the faery said. She began by saying she'd like to see Hermione's "happiness increased" which is certainly odd ('but sounds pleasant enough on the face of things, all considered').
The faery followed by telling Hermione that she has been isolating herself for too long ('probably correct'), and that she is getting lost in her own inner world. (She's introverted and knows it; so that's probably a given.) Then Mab asserted that Hermione should open up to those around her if she "would be happier." The faery queen wouldn't be the first to think so, so there may well be something to it, beyond the magical.
And finally Mab concluded with one of those vague, elliptical statements that remind Hermione ('quite a bit') of Dumbledore. The Fae's queen told her that she has a colleague she is "close to" that she should "consider." Not what she should consider them, or for what either ('no hints to be had there'), or for that matter what "close" even means. She wishes, not for the first time, that people would speak more plainly if they have something to convey. ('It's a truly unnecessary and bothersome habit.')
For example, she's become much closer to Neville since she returned for her seventh year as he was starting his Herbology apprenticeship. And she considers him a good head of house, say. Or Minerva. She's been very close to the Headmistress since returning to Hogwarts and definitely since beginning her own Arithmancy apprenticeship. Hermione considers the older witch a good friend. Or there's Hagrid, whose hut is close by ('although he's in France visiting Olympe at the moment, actually...'). And so on... It's maddeningly vague and can mean anything or nothing, but Hermione can't help wondering if that is the point. The latitude to interpret it as she sees fit means the choices are ultimately hers. She prefers that notion to "fate," so maybe it's for the best.
So when just moments later she practically runs into the school's withdrawn Potions Master outside the glade, her surprise is great. So much so, that she nearly laughs, but doesn't, knowing it will be misunderstood. (She settles for a slightly lopsided smile instead. 'He'll probably take it for a smirk.') Was he the colleague Mab meant, or would that have been too on the nose? ('"Close!" Ha!') She's certain Severus is either on his way to or from the Fae's clearing, and although she wouldn't object in the least to learning why, she minds her own business ('only just') and engages him in polite conversation instead.
She is a bit preoccupied, however, and not just because of Mab's "happiness directive." The situation with her parents is truly painful, especially on birthdays and Christmas, and it probably hasn't helped that she doesn't really talk about it. (She concedes the point to Mab, again.) But talking about it is problematic.
For one thing, she's been encouraged not to do so to lessen the attention "it" receives and increase her chances of not being... punished. Punished, she would be quick to add, for having been forced by universal inaction and disregard to create this mess in the first place. ('As though the situation weren't punishment enough...') There will never be enough indignation to express her reaction to the Ministry's response to the matter.
For another, she's sort of run out of people on the very short ('and admittedly tacit') Ministry approved list (so much hate) with whom she can speak about it. And those people basically fall into three camps. The first group shuts her down with a gentle "try not to think about it, dear, so you can put it behind you." Because repression is so terribly healthy and effective as coping mechanisms go. The second group reflects that first problem and echoes the party line, "best not to speak of it, lest charges are pressed." They do so either because they agree with the Ministry ('like Harry') and think she will eventually see reason (and so she discovers just how much she has been underestimating people's rampant stupidity), or because they're pragmatic (in which case their lack of righteous indignation is simply galling to her). The third group is frankly bored to tears, and tries desperately to change the subject. It's possible she's doing them an injustice; perhaps they are merely uncomfortable and looking for more pleasant topics, but the end effect for her is the same.
Ultimately the root of that last problem is the worst she has to face: there's really nothing new to say. There are no changes, no updates. Her quandaries, legal, ethical or purely emotional, once run through, remain unvarying. If she rails against the Ministry, she'll have nothing substantial to add since her last rant. Or the ten before that. All her arguments are unendingly cyclic. That fact doesn't lessen her pain in the least, but it does tend to kill a conversation.
And faced with the impending holidays, yet another without her family, and estranged from her friends, she's feeling a bit lonely and sorry for herself and ('slightly') overwhelmed, and she indulges herself ('just a smidgeon') and seeks a human connection. The Ministry be damned, she won't be muzzled. She'll speak to whomever she pleases. And so she finds herself telling the Potions Master about her problems. (Just maybe Mab put this bee in her bonnet.)
Intuitively she feels confident that he won't defend the Ministry. She is certain he will understand the reasons for her actions and won't judge. ('It probably helps that even great Neptune's ocean couldn't wash his hands clean... Which is completely unfair, really, given his position,' and she'd apologize immediately if she had actually said it. 'But it was too fittingly snarky not to have thought it.') He hasn't heard her story before, so he shouldn't be ('completely') bored by her tale. And she doubts he would pass it off as "best not thought about," because she is absolutely positive he is a world class brooder. ('The Severus/Lily stories alone would seem to indicate he doesn't let things go, either, so a wallower of the first water, then. Although "wallowing" sounds overly negative...')
She's comfortable ruling a lot of things out, but what she's less sure about is his actual reaction. Some mixture of isolation on her part coupled with the fact that, whatever his reaction is, at least it should be something new emboldens her, and she finds herself telling him the whole sad story. Well, not the bits about Harry. Or her frustrations with the Ministry. But the rest. Mostly.
But then without her saying a word about it, he completely extrapolates the Ministry's role in her misery. ('My, but there's plenty to be said for intelligence. And probably experience, too.') And then he takes her side.
And it's amazing. And he tells her all this ('so very unlike him to put himself out there, but he does'), and it's the best thing she's heard in... months. ('Maybe longer.') And in her weakened, connection-starved state she suddenly finds herself overwhelmed and acting entirely on impulse and... hugging him.
Possibly assaulting him, if she were to stick to the facts of the matter.
He immediately stiffens under her touch, and she's so sorry, because his body goes thoroughly rigid. But he has put his arms around her in response, so there's that. (Vaguely she is aware that as she lunged, his arms went up defensively, and then they were sort of flapping about uncomfortably, 'and he probably just needed a place to park them... But still...')
And this sad little hug is the closest thing to physical affection that she's experienced in so long... probably since before she and Harry parted ways ('in every meaningful sense of the words'). And now she's feeling pretty pathetic, and trying desperately not to sob. And then he makes what might be the world's most awkward soothing gestures, sort of clapping one hand on her shoulder, thump, thump, thump, as his other arm still lies, erm... parked around her waist. But she finds it incredibly endearing. It pulls her right out of her funk. She almost giggles, for goodness sake. ('Of course it's an emotional roller coaster, but no less genuine for it.') He didn't ask for this, any of this. What he asked was a presumably innocent question, and suddenly he's dropped a monumental clanger instead. Then he gets hit with all... this. And still he's trying to put on his most decent face.
She's incredibly grateful.
It helps, of course, that Hermione is one to consider the source. Years of close association with friends less emotionally ('or intellectually') gifted have taught her to adjust her expectations, and she is surprisingly good at it now. It won't prevent her from nagging, but she grades interpersonal interactions on a sliding scale by force of habit. For Minerva this would be a poor showing ('Troll'). Even Filius would do much better ('Poor'). (Although neither would encourage her to question the Ministry's fairness, 'each for their own reasons, Camps One and Two (subset b), respectively...') But for Severus, this is truly something else ('Outstanding'). And he's in a camp all his own.
Which is why she is immediately sorry to have pounced on him in such a fashion. This is a very poor reward for his kindness, to make him even more uncomfortable and impose further upon him. But then, the embrace wasn't actually meant to be a reward now, was it? She was overwrought and overcome and expressed herself suitably. Well, perhaps not suited to him, but where words fail... Gestures prevail.
But truth be told, she finds herself in a better place than she did just moments ago, by which the cheeky witch may or may not mean a certain tall wizard's arms.
And so they stand, holding one another. His arms loosely around her, one hand thumping comfortingly, if awkwardly, on her shoulder. Thump, thump, thump. Her face remains pressed to his warm chest, hiding first her tearing eyes and then her giggle. Reflexively, she starts to snuggle against him, but it's so subtle a movement before she catches herself and breaks it off that she hopes he won't have noticed. He smells good, and she can detect the scents of herbs from some of the potions he's been working on, and a note of... cider? (Maybe he's made some for the staff Christmas party again!) His winter cloak is soft and not at all scratchy against her face, and she thinks she can hear his heart beating a tattoo in counterpoint to his claps.
Thumpa, thumpa, thumpa. Thump, thump, thump.
It's pleasant (for her) and a welcome change. Too bad it can't last.
Notes:
As always, concrit and feedback are appreciated, and I can never get enough love...
In the next chapter, our heroes still aren't out of the woods, and they have a ways yet to the castle, all whilst working diligently on personifying awkward. And we return to our usual Severus centric point of view.
A/N: Rabid experimentation has led to a solution (of sorts, possibly: "foul") to the formatting issues plaguing me. The inclusion of HTML (explicitly or automatically, the latter of which was a bugbear to track down, particularly as not necessarily displayed. (Seriously??? Oh, just shoot me now...)) in the notes at the top (but only at the top...) of the page seems to cause the pleasantly enlarged display on tablets to barf. (That's probably the technical term for it. Sure it is.)
Once again, anyone with a clue, please feel super encouraged to leave me a comment with the right vocabulary words, so I can happily Google away, or, y'know go FAQ it. Ta.
xox
Ginger