"Thank the Fae" by gingerbred Chapter 08
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 2
Thursday. While Severus is researching elsewhere in the castle, Hermione's reflecting. We find out what Draco's been up to, and maybe Hermione isn't quite as friendless as she fears.
Incredibly minor ginger and Potter bashing occur. Hardly worth mentioning, really...
Originally Published: 2017-01-23 on AO3
Chapter: 8 / 13 of ?
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Disclaimer:
JKR owns the lot. I own bugger all, and shan't profit in the least. Except for kudos and comments, both of which are lovely and appreciated. (*nudge nudge, wink wink*)
Previously:
Hermione visits with the Queen of the Fae. Mab decides Hermione's life needs improving, whilst Hermione's a bit unsure what to make of that. She'll need to give it some lots of thought.
Immediately after, Hermione ran into Severus in the Forbidden Forest and they returned to the castle together. They talked and laughed, and Hermione, swept up in the moment, even gave the stunned Potions Master a hug.
She hasn't had an evening this nice in a long time.
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 2
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Thursday 21st December, HermioneHermione feels positively energized after her talk with Severus. She's let people she doesn't respect (well, the Ministry, 'the same') dictate her behavior for too long out of fear of a punishment she isn't even sure they would have the... guts to exact. (It should be a publicity nightmare.)
Talking with Severus has been liberating, and she feels a renewed sense of purpose. Simultaneously, she feels lighter somehow. Less encumbered.
That may be going around.
It's odd, but refreshing and extremely welcome. Laughing in itself will certainly have helped. And their conversation has doubtlessly done so very much more.
In fact, everything's more.
She enjoys dinner far more than usual. The food tastes better than it did this morning, or yesterday, or all term really. The decorations seem more beautiful. The conversations with colleagues and the remaining students are more engaging than usual. ('That, of course, would be the give away that the change is internal.') She has more fun. All told, she has a perfectly lovely meal before retiring to her rooms to get to work.
That first evening she finds herself in far and away the best mood she's been in in so long, she really can't remember when she last felt better. She senses that she should leave it at that imprecise appraisal, and she's correct, because if she thinks in too much detail about all the times she's been less happy in recent months, that good mood will probably dissipate. Quite thoroughly.
And so after dinner, before she has a chance to forget anything, although with Hermione's near eidetic recall, that should be very unlikely, she sits down and makes a list of the things Queen Mab told her. For some things the gist will do, for others she considers it safest to make sure she has the exact quote in case it requires further evaluation. The approach is quintessentially Hermione. Naturally.
"happiness increased" - assume benevolence
lonely
self-isolating for too long
open up to those around me if I "would be happier"
colleague (I am "close to") that I should "consider" (for? / what??)
First and foremost, largely building on the experience she has had with them in the past, but also relying on how it makes her feel whenever she visits with Mab and her court, she decides she'll take the "happiness increased" comment at face value. She considers them... well meaning. But she is acutely aware that even if the Fae mean well, she herself might feel differently about the results, she combs her fingers wistfully through her tangled locks at the thought. And she has a sneaking feeling they'd take unkindly to any resistance she offered.
But she doesn't know that for sure. In fact, she was able to find virtually no nonfictional mention of the Fae in all the research she has done since her first visit to their glade two and a half years ago. If she hadn't been desperate, she wouldn't have pursued it at the time, and if she hadn't had Severus' notes, she wouldn't have known how to. She's not at all sure where he was able to find his information, but she can't help thinking she may need to ask him if he can shed any light on this new, unsolicited boon the Fae seem to have decided she needs to accept. ('Convoluted, but correct.')
She's wary of approaching him, partially because they have never spoken about their visits to the Fae before. She's also not sure how he'll feel about her having used his research, although she has a hard time pinpointing why precisely she thinks that might be an issue. But if they do talk, she'd like to pick his brains as to why he continues to visit them ('assumably to pay tribute'). She'd very much like to know if he had something more concrete to base his actions on, for she was surprised to see him there.
She likes Severus ('or... something resembling it'). She respects him greatly ('no need to qualify that'). He may well be both the most talented and knowledgeable wizard she knows ('quite probably'). But no matter how highly she regards him, there is no denying he is not the... politest person she knows ('tactful'). Yes, that's a safe estimation. It's not that he lacks the culture or polish (and somehow she finds herself picturing Ronald's table manners as she thinks that and reflexively shuddering), just that others' sensibilities are most definitely not a priority of his. So it was unexpected to see Severus honoring the Fae, unless he knows a good deal more than she does. ('Well, that's a given, but topic specific.')
She's not even really sure why she returns regularly to thank them for their aid, if she's realistic. Severus' notes, the literature seemed to ('very vaguely') suggest thanks might be viewed as proper, and she is a well-mannered young woman if nothing else. If this is the behavior they expect, she shouldn't like to appear ungrateful. It goes against her grain. It's a minor time commitment, and well worth it to her. She tends to torment herself, extensively, when she doesn't do things she considers "right," so it's probably for the best that she continues her visits. The self-recriminations alone would take longer than the visits ever could.
Additionally, from the tone of Mab's comments, she hopes their assistance will... She struggles. She really hesitates to put this in words.
She's lonely; it would be nice if that were to change.
('There.')
It would be even nicer...
And again, thinking about it too closely makes her uncomfortable. She has a notion of what she means but chooses not to say, and for the moment, that thought, that amorphous hope is enough.
Yes, that would be nice indeed.
And it's not that she isn't willing to work at it. She's never been one to laze about. She's capable of expending great effort to achieve her goals. She simply needs to formulate them.
Reflecting on the past few years, tentatively, so as not to rub salt in her own wounds, she recognizes that she has indeed withdrawn, hidden from the world, buried herself in her studies, barricaded herself in the ivory ('well, rough-hewn stone') tower of academia, and that that mightn't be as beneficial in terms of personal development as would be sensible. Wise. Healthy. Desirable.
She tries not to think about why that last word makes her breath hitch just a bit. The other words were... words. They were safe. The last one... far less so. It feels a touch dangerous and more than a bit confusing.
She's not comfortable with the concept of "desire" then? How on earth did that happen? When did that happen? Why?
Trying to work this through, because she believes the essence of Mab's message is that Hermione needs to change if she wants to be happy, she's really considering things a lot tonight. She's attempting to do the necessary work, and she gives it serious thought. She wouldn't be capable of anything else. She's mature, reasonably disinhibited (good grief, sharing the tent for so long with the two boys has left her with precious few illusions), not averse to companionship ('in the least')...
So she decides she can primarily thank the failure of her relationship with Ronald and her inability to meet new people for that. It's left her feeling undesirable and somehow... stunted. As though she were unentitled to or incapable of having a relationship, which is patently ridiculous, as really she did most of the heavy lifting with Ronald before it all went pear shaped.
But it doesn't help that with all the publicity that was generated by her role in the war, she finds it effectively impossible to meet anyone new. They either seem to want her for what they think she can do for them, or for who they think she is, but never for the flesh and blood woman stood before them. That just leaves people she knows.
If she had wanted to date any of the boys she grew up with... Well, there's been plenty of time for that, and not a one of them has caught her fancy. Further, with the notable exception of Malfoy... Draco, none of them can remotely begin to keep up with her, and Draco, well, there's too much bad ('mud') blood there. (She immediately feels guilty for doing that, that wasn't fair at all anymore, but their shared school history is certainly anything but pleasant.)
Thinking about her friendships and her relative isolation of late, she stops to consider Draco. He is actually a very strange case, she owes him his due, so she feels especially guilty for that cheap shot. Just thinking about him makes her feel somehow better and worse all at the same time. ('How terrifically ambivalent.') He and his mother were sentenced to house arrest in the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts. He's been there working with private tutors and a Potions Master ever since. He should complete his mastery this spring, if all goes to plan. Stuck as he is at the Manor, somehow they had fallen into the habit of owling each other to exchange texts.
Draco had been kind enough to send her an apology owl after his sentencing. She greatly appreciated the timing, because it made it clear he wasn't doing this just to solicit her assistance with the Wizengamot. In the months that followed, desperate as she was to find some way to help her parents, she dared to write to him asking if their library might contain anything that could be of use. (She took the liberty of suggesting a number of works.) The Malfoys' library harbored a number of rare ('highly restricted') texts which her straits were dire enough to wish to consult when she was trying to find a solution, any solution, to undo the Obliviations.
Draco trusted her enough to send her some extremely helpful tomes. Had they fallen into the wrong hands, had she betrayed his trust, there could have been very real consequences for him. Serious consequences. He might have ended up next to his father in Azkaban. She truly appreciates that, both his trust and his aid, as well as their potential ramifications. That her efforts weren't ultimately successful was certainly no fault of his. He had done far more than she had any right to expect. She for her part regularly supplied him with material from the Hogwarts' library, and they now had sort of an owl-order lending library set up.
If she thought about that further, she'd realize he can buy anything he needs or wants, so perhaps he, too, is lonely and seeking a connection. But it's been easier for her not to recognize that fact. Likewise, to be fair, she never realizes that with her initial request for help, she demonstrated, certainly her desperation, but also her trust in him to not betray her hunt for darker texts. She'll never understand how much that act meant to him in his isolated position. And of course, he'd never say.
When she completed her Arithmancy mastery, in the shortest span of time ever on record, it should be mentioned, he had sent her a note of congratulations ("Granger, I never doubted for a moment that you would pull it off. Good on you! Now you only need to out-Snape Severus in your classes, and you'll be sorted. Don't hesitate to ask if you need suggestions.") enclosed with a beautiful, ancient and fabulously rare Arithmancy reference gifted from their collection in addition to a recent publication from Flourish and Blotts, clearly purchased for the occasion, on the "History of Corporal Punishment in the Wizarding Classroom" which she sort of assumes was him taking the mickey, or so she very much hopes. Apart from Bridget Wenlock's biography, the highly sought-after seventh edition, from Septima and her first set of teaching robes from Minerva, they were the only gifts she received. When Malfoy remembers your graduation and that you're starting a new position, and then marks the occasion with a gift, and your "best" friends... forget? Well something is topsy turvey.
She still hasn't visited Draco, and she feels somewhat guilty about that. She knows he's stuck there in the Manor, and he must be climbing the walls ('luxurious and expansive though they may be'), but she just can't seem to work up the courage to go back there. If he were anywhere else... But they owl regularly, and that's been nice.
Thinking of him, and the help and, yes, she'd have to call it a developing friendship he has provided over the past two and a half years, she decides she should get him something for Christmas. She hasn't before; he can buy anything he wants and just the idea of it seemed silly, but since her talk with Severus ('was it only hours ago?' It can't have been longer; she can still catch the scent of him on her hair from when she nuzzled him earlier. Just a hint of bergamot mingling with her citrus.), she's reconsidering that sometimes it might be nice just to know that someone has thought kindly of you.
She's already selected a lovely quill for Minerva that she means to pick up at Scribner's this Saturday in Hogsmeade; she thinks she'll get Draco some handmade Japanese folding paper and a book on Origami. The thought of his charmed crane flying across the Potions classroom still makes her smile.
For Filius she already has a packet of the WWW Christmas Charm Combustibaubles (W3C3).
And she wonders, as long as she's getting things for the others, if it wouldn't also be perfectly acceptable to get Severus a token of her... well, perhaps just a little something. For the holidays. There wouldn't be anything to it, would there?
He might even enjoy it...
And so musing about what might please the reclusive Potions Master, she finally retires for the night looking forward to the next morning in a way she hasn't for quite some time now, with a whiff of bergamot cradling her to sleep.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Friday. Hermione speaks to Minerva about the elves, and we find out a little about some of the measures Minerva has taken to improve the situation at Hogwarts for our favorite professors and students in need of aid.
Minor ginger and Potter bashing will occur.
A/N:
Decided to split the monster chapter up into day by day installments to give you something sooner.
Thursday. While Severus is researching elsewhere in the castle, Hermione's reflecting. We find out what Draco's been up to, and maybe Hermione isn't quite as friendless as she fears.
Incredibly minor ginger and Potter bashing occur. Hardly worth mentioning, really...
Originally Published: 2017-01-23 on AO3
Chapter: 8 / 13 of ?
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Disclaimer:
JKR owns the lot. I own bugger all, and shan't profit in the least. Except for kudos and comments, both of which are lovely and appreciated. (*nudge nudge, wink wink*)
Previously:
Hermione visits with the Queen of the Fae. Mab decides Hermione's life needs improving, whilst Hermione's a bit unsure what to make of that. She'll need to give it some lots of thought.
Immediately after, Hermione ran into Severus in the Forbidden Forest and they returned to the castle together. They talked and laughed, and Hermione, swept up in the moment, even gave the stunned Potions Master a hug.
She hasn't had an evening this nice in a long time.
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 2
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Thursday 21st December, HermioneHermione feels positively energized after her talk with Severus. She's let people she doesn't respect (well, the Ministry, 'the same') dictate her behavior for too long out of fear of a punishment she isn't even sure they would have the... guts to exact. (It should be a publicity nightmare.)
Talking with Severus has been liberating, and she feels a renewed sense of purpose. Simultaneously, she feels lighter somehow. Less encumbered.
That may be going around.
It's odd, but refreshing and extremely welcome. Laughing in itself will certainly have helped. And their conversation has doubtlessly done so very much more.
In fact, everything's more.
She enjoys dinner far more than usual. The food tastes better than it did this morning, or yesterday, or all term really. The decorations seem more beautiful. The conversations with colleagues and the remaining students are more engaging than usual. ('That, of course, would be the give away that the change is internal.') She has more fun. All told, she has a perfectly lovely meal before retiring to her rooms to get to work.
That first evening she finds herself in far and away the best mood she's been in in so long, she really can't remember when she last felt better. She senses that she should leave it at that imprecise appraisal, and she's correct, because if she thinks in too much detail about all the times she's been less happy in recent months, that good mood will probably dissipate. Quite thoroughly.
And so after dinner, before she has a chance to forget anything, although with Hermione's near eidetic recall, that should be very unlikely, she sits down and makes a list of the things Queen Mab told her. For some things the gist will do, for others she considers it safest to make sure she has the exact quote in case it requires further evaluation. The approach is quintessentially Hermione. Naturally.
"happiness increased" - assume benevolence
lonely
self-isolating for too long
open up to those around me if I "would be happier"
colleague (I am "close to") that I should "consider" (for? / what??)
First and foremost, largely building on the experience she has had with them in the past, but also relying on how it makes her feel whenever she visits with Mab and her court, she decides she'll take the "happiness increased" comment at face value. She considers them... well meaning. But she is acutely aware that even if the Fae mean well, she herself might feel differently about the results, she combs her fingers wistfully through her tangled locks at the thought. And she has a sneaking feeling they'd take unkindly to any resistance she offered.
But she doesn't know that for sure. In fact, she was able to find virtually no nonfictional mention of the Fae in all the research she has done since her first visit to their glade two and a half years ago. If she hadn't been desperate, she wouldn't have pursued it at the time, and if she hadn't had Severus' notes, she wouldn't have known how to. She's not at all sure where he was able to find his information, but she can't help thinking she may need to ask him if he can shed any light on this new, unsolicited boon the Fae seem to have decided she needs to accept. ('Convoluted, but correct.')
She's wary of approaching him, partially because they have never spoken about their visits to the Fae before. She's also not sure how he'll feel about her having used his research, although she has a hard time pinpointing why precisely she thinks that might be an issue. But if they do talk, she'd like to pick his brains as to why he continues to visit them ('assumably to pay tribute'). She'd very much like to know if he had something more concrete to base his actions on, for she was surprised to see him there.
She likes Severus ('or... something resembling it'). She respects him greatly ('no need to qualify that'). He may well be both the most talented and knowledgeable wizard she knows ('quite probably'). But no matter how highly she regards him, there is no denying he is not the... politest person she knows ('tactful'). Yes, that's a safe estimation. It's not that he lacks the culture or polish (and somehow she finds herself picturing Ronald's table manners as she thinks that and reflexively shuddering), just that others' sensibilities are most definitely not a priority of his. So it was unexpected to see Severus honoring the Fae, unless he knows a good deal more than she does. ('Well, that's a given, but topic specific.')
She's not even really sure why she returns regularly to thank them for their aid, if she's realistic. Severus' notes, the literature seemed to ('very vaguely') suggest thanks might be viewed as proper, and she is a well-mannered young woman if nothing else. If this is the behavior they expect, she shouldn't like to appear ungrateful. It goes against her grain. It's a minor time commitment, and well worth it to her. She tends to torment herself, extensively, when she doesn't do things she considers "right," so it's probably for the best that she continues her visits. The self-recriminations alone would take longer than the visits ever could.
Additionally, from the tone of Mab's comments, she hopes their assistance will... She struggles. She really hesitates to put this in words.
She's lonely; it would be nice if that were to change.
('There.')
It would be even nicer...
And again, thinking about it too closely makes her uncomfortable. She has a notion of what she means but chooses not to say, and for the moment, that thought, that amorphous hope is enough.
Yes, that would be nice indeed.
And it's not that she isn't willing to work at it. She's never been one to laze about. She's capable of expending great effort to achieve her goals. She simply needs to formulate them.
Reflecting on the past few years, tentatively, so as not to rub salt in her own wounds, she recognizes that she has indeed withdrawn, hidden from the world, buried herself in her studies, barricaded herself in the ivory ('well, rough-hewn stone') tower of academia, and that that mightn't be as beneficial in terms of personal development as would be sensible. Wise. Healthy. Desirable.
She tries not to think about why that last word makes her breath hitch just a bit. The other words were... words. They were safe. The last one... far less so. It feels a touch dangerous and more than a bit confusing.
She's not comfortable with the concept of "desire" then? How on earth did that happen? When did that happen? Why?
Trying to work this through, because she believes the essence of Mab's message is that Hermione needs to change if she wants to be happy, she's really considering things a lot tonight. She's attempting to do the necessary work, and she gives it serious thought. She wouldn't be capable of anything else. She's mature, reasonably disinhibited (good grief, sharing the tent for so long with the two boys has left her with precious few illusions), not averse to companionship ('in the least')...
So she decides she can primarily thank the failure of her relationship with Ronald and her inability to meet new people for that. It's left her feeling undesirable and somehow... stunted. As though she were unentitled to or incapable of having a relationship, which is patently ridiculous, as really she did most of the heavy lifting with Ronald before it all went pear shaped.
But it doesn't help that with all the publicity that was generated by her role in the war, she finds it effectively impossible to meet anyone new. They either seem to want her for what they think she can do for them, or for who they think she is, but never for the flesh and blood woman stood before them. That just leaves people she knows.
If she had wanted to date any of the boys she grew up with... Well, there's been plenty of time for that, and not a one of them has caught her fancy. Further, with the notable exception of Malfoy... Draco, none of them can remotely begin to keep up with her, and Draco, well, there's too much bad ('mud') blood there. (She immediately feels guilty for doing that, that wasn't fair at all anymore, but their shared school history is certainly anything but pleasant.)
Thinking about her friendships and her relative isolation of late, she stops to consider Draco. He is actually a very strange case, she owes him his due, so she feels especially guilty for that cheap shot. Just thinking about him makes her feel somehow better and worse all at the same time. ('How terrifically ambivalent.') He and his mother were sentenced to house arrest in the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts. He's been there working with private tutors and a Potions Master ever since. He should complete his mastery this spring, if all goes to plan. Stuck as he is at the Manor, somehow they had fallen into the habit of owling each other to exchange texts.
Draco had been kind enough to send her an apology owl after his sentencing. She greatly appreciated the timing, because it made it clear he wasn't doing this just to solicit her assistance with the Wizengamot. In the months that followed, desperate as she was to find some way to help her parents, she dared to write to him asking if their library might contain anything that could be of use. (She took the liberty of suggesting a number of works.) The Malfoys' library harbored a number of rare ('highly restricted') texts which her straits were dire enough to wish to consult when she was trying to find a solution, any solution, to undo the Obliviations.
Draco trusted her enough to send her some extremely helpful tomes. Had they fallen into the wrong hands, had she betrayed his trust, there could have been very real consequences for him. Serious consequences. He might have ended up next to his father in Azkaban. She truly appreciates that, both his trust and his aid, as well as their potential ramifications. That her efforts weren't ultimately successful was certainly no fault of his. He had done far more than she had any right to expect. She for her part regularly supplied him with material from the Hogwarts' library, and they now had sort of an owl-order lending library set up.
If she thought about that further, she'd realize he can buy anything he needs or wants, so perhaps he, too, is lonely and seeking a connection. But it's been easier for her not to recognize that fact. Likewise, to be fair, she never realizes that with her initial request for help, she demonstrated, certainly her desperation, but also her trust in him to not betray her hunt for darker texts. She'll never understand how much that act meant to him in his isolated position. And of course, he'd never say.
When she completed her Arithmancy mastery, in the shortest span of time ever on record, it should be mentioned, he had sent her a note of congratulations ("Granger, I never doubted for a moment that you would pull it off. Good on you! Now you only need to out-Snape Severus in your classes, and you'll be sorted. Don't hesitate to ask if you need suggestions.") enclosed with a beautiful, ancient and fabulously rare Arithmancy reference gifted from their collection in addition to a recent publication from Flourish and Blotts, clearly purchased for the occasion, on the "History of Corporal Punishment in the Wizarding Classroom" which she sort of assumes was him taking the mickey, or so she very much hopes. Apart from Bridget Wenlock's biography, the highly sought-after seventh edition, from Septima and her first set of teaching robes from Minerva, they were the only gifts she received. When Malfoy remembers your graduation and that you're starting a new position, and then marks the occasion with a gift, and your "best" friends... forget? Well something is topsy turvey.
She still hasn't visited Draco, and she feels somewhat guilty about that. She knows he's stuck there in the Manor, and he must be climbing the walls ('luxurious and expansive though they may be'), but she just can't seem to work up the courage to go back there. If he were anywhere else... But they owl regularly, and that's been nice.
Thinking of him, and the help and, yes, she'd have to call it a developing friendship he has provided over the past two and a half years, she decides she should get him something for Christmas. She hasn't before; he can buy anything he wants and just the idea of it seemed silly, but since her talk with Severus ('was it only hours ago?' It can't have been longer; she can still catch the scent of him on her hair from when she nuzzled him earlier. Just a hint of bergamot mingling with her citrus.), she's reconsidering that sometimes it might be nice just to know that someone has thought kindly of you.
She's already selected a lovely quill for Minerva that she means to pick up at Scribner's this Saturday in Hogsmeade; she thinks she'll get Draco some handmade Japanese folding paper and a book on Origami. The thought of his charmed crane flying across the Potions classroom still makes her smile.
For Filius she already has a packet of the WWW Christmas Charm Combustibaubles (W3C3).
And she wonders, as long as she's getting things for the others, if it wouldn't also be perfectly acceptable to get Severus a token of her... well, perhaps just a little something. For the holidays. There wouldn't be anything to it, would there?
He might even enjoy it...
And so musing about what might please the reclusive Potions Master, she finally retires for the night looking forward to the next morning in a way she hasn't for quite some time now, with a whiff of bergamot cradling her to sleep.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Friday. Hermione speaks to Minerva about the elves, and we find out a little about some of the measures Minerva has taken to improve the situation at Hogwarts for our favorite professors and students in need of aid.
Minor ginger and Potter bashing will occur.
A/N:
Decided to split the monster chapter up into day by day installments to give you something sooner.