"Thank the Fae" by gingerbred Chapter 12
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 6
Lunch is eaten, or not, shopping happens, and someone tries their hand at a spot of B&E. Forsooth!
Originally Published: 2017-02-13 on AO3
Chapter: 12 / 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 appreciated, as is your reading. Ta!
Previously:
Hermione recently told Severus about her parents, still obliviated with no memory of her, and he decided to dig a bit deeper but didn't mention it. Because of course not.
Harry wrote to tell her that Severus is investigating her parents' problem and has asked Arthur for information, as yet not provided. Hermione may have had a thing or two to say about that, little of it nice, much of it snippy, all of it as yet not owled. She's not a happy camper. But then, she's grown to really hate camping.
Severus and Hermione are both coping with caffeine withdrawal, more or less stubbornly, respectively, although Severus' mood may be more severely influenced by the protracted student discussion of his recent bout of laughter. Poor thing.
And Hermione has decided on a Christmas present for the beleaguered Potions Master.
A/N:
So I'm trying an experiment, and feedback would help. There's a bit of local color, background and a couple of original characters in this chapter, some of which I need for later but much is just to flesh out their world. I looked at the thickness of the HP books and decided people here probably weren't adverse to reading, and world building was something I always appreciated. But that's just me. If you would be so kind and let me know how that works for you, it would really help. (Especially as I'm working on the ball scene atm.) Thanks again.
xox Ginger
ETA: EEK! Bowman is canon, folks. Just realized that might not come across *at all*. Sorry. I did a bunch of research (insomniac) to see who I could borrow for my story, but didn't want to force readers to do the same (reading shouldn't be homework) because he's so minor, so I repeated the info on him here. Marcus, Herewig and Helga are my OCs. (And Helga's niece is canon, but not fleshed out.)
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 6
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Saturday 23rd December, Lunch, Hermione
She picks at her food, hardly eating.
She's agitated. There's no better word for it. Her hair is even crackling with accidental wandless magic, growing steadily bushier with each passing moment and thought. It hasn't been this bad in years, although the locks at least have a heavier weight and remain more or less in place. At least there's that to be said for them. (Ronald actually had plenty to say for them. 'But none of it good.') She sits there deflated next to Severus with her hair bristling, inexorably, relentlessly increasing in volume.
He mistakes her agitation for a caffeine withdrawal of the first order, and considers that possibly he should provide her with a suitable potion, or ten. In the final analysis, this latest house elf fiasco was his doing after all. And this, he thinks whilst watching her fidget, on top of a cold, will never do. But he hesitates to draw more attention to himself and their interactions in front of the students in light of the rumors already circulating about him and the... laughter. He wouldn't want to appear solicitous on top of everything else. Perhaps he'll Floo something over later. Or have an elf sort it. He snorts faintly thinking that would surely ruffle her feathers more than it would help.
She doesn't notice.
She's conflicted. She's a mess. She's mad at Harry. Hell, she's mad at Ronald, and he didn't even do anything except loan Harry his owl, although since the war she has come to the conclusion that a person's inaction is justification enough to be angry at them. She generally considers that shift in assessment progress, but still, Ron hasn't actually done ('or not done') anything today. (She's not entirely sure how anyone could do and not do something simultaneously, but she's certain if anyone could, that would describe Ronald to a "T.")
She's disappointed in Arthur for not just answering Severus as quickly as possible. Then she desperately tries not to hold caution against him, and decides she's saddened that he turned to Harry and not her directly. Or didn't feel that he could. It's all such a mess.
She's completely floored that Severus is helping her, and she can't stop looking at him only to tear her gaze away so he won't think she's staring. Which she absolutely was, but...
There's something going on with him, too. He's grumpy. ('Well, more than usual.') She wonders if it could be caffeine withdrawal after all? ('Nonsense, he'd have taken a potion.') Or if it's to do with the student... whatever it was? She can't help noticing that he's still glaring at them. ('Well, again, more than usual.') And he really doesn't seem to want to make eye contact with her. Could he be this mad about his tea? Entirely possible, but that still doesn't seem to line up with his reaction quite right, and she's becoming even more troubled the longer she thinks about it.
She returns to her quarters more confused than before, but with a bit of ham in hand for the still ('if not patiently') waiting Pig.
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon, Hermione
As has become abundantly clear to her in the last couple of days, she hasn't a surfeit of friends, or even people who care. She can't even think that without wincing. So maybe she is a bit overeager not to alienate those few that do care any more than necessary. But then she always has been a bit keen, really. (As well as friend-poor, come to think of it. 'Ouch.')
So she adds "dubious tea blend" to her shopping list for the afternoon, making a note to herself to ask one of the elves first what exactly Severus drinks. Vaguely she supposes this once again creates work for them, and wonders if simply brewing the tea is less work than the effort involved in explaining the process to her, and lies unsuccessfully to herself that a conversation with her is less a chore than making tea. That reflects her mood. But remembering she has a nice thermos mug in her kitchen, although charms should render that function, or another mug's lack thereof, somewhat moot, she brightens a bit as she considers that she could provide Severus with tea ('sludge') service in the mornings. Perhaps that would help.
The thought of it, coupled with the hints of images of caretaking and the idea that he might trust her enough to drink a beverage she proffered certainly cheers her further. At worst, he'd inconspicuously vanish it, and she'd never be the wiser. At this point, that would still be sufficiently beneficial for her fragile ego. She believes she'll take a win no matter how specious. She's wrong, but there's little point in telling her that now.
Thinking some more about friends she could be inconveniencing, she quickly adds a black pudding for Minerva and Edradour whisky marmalade for Filius to her growing shopping list. And now she's not sure if that would be something she could or should bring with her to the Great Hall to breakfast, or how best to manage this. And the message that sends to the students? And on top of Severus' tea? Things are rarely quite as simple as one believes on setting out.
Her thoughts race and leap around quite a bit. She can't help thinking again and again, with no small degree of amazement, that Severus has apparently decided to take a look at her problem, and what that might possibly mean. Could there actually be any hope for her parents? And really, isn't just the fact that he's willing to look into it important enough in itself? She genuinely can't believe he would trouble himself for her, but it makes her feel... good. Good, and a bit hopeful, although that hope is somewhat ill-defined. And somehow... risky.
The issue, she senses, is that she isn't merely hopeful that his efforts might help her parents. Obviously that would be brilliant; that's not in question. But she's spent so long without a hint of hope now, and so long before that trying desperately not to get her hopes up only to see them dashed again, that, truth be told, she isn't even able to fully explore hope in that context at this time. So the reasons for this strangely hopeful sensation in the pit of her stomach are indeed very interesting. And as she tentatively investigates them, she realizes that what she's actually hoping is that some significance can be attached to his decision to help her. Why has he chosen to do this? And there it is again, that traitorous flutter of hope, deep, deep down in her belly.
She tries to avoid that particular line of thought and give herself some more time to calm down and return to her senses ('if sensible') before dispatching Pig with that scroll to Harry. Or at least that's what she tells herself, but maybe she just can't seem to stop thinking about him, and so she decides to distract herself with thoughts of the Potion Master's Christmas present. Her previous idea was good, but now, knowing he's investigating her parents' situation, it doesn't feel like it's enough. Too mean, too stingy by far. And then she has a brilliant idea, and begins to sketch, quickly yielding a result she finds so much more than satisfactory.
Having put it off as long as she can, she still needs to head into Hogsmeade after all, she considers her letter to Harry one last time. She remains reasonably ('or unreasonably') satisfied with her response and gives it to Pig and, with a last treat for the way, sends him off.
And a good thing she did, too, because that's the last treat he shall get for a while.
-~oOo~-
Out and About, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon and Evening, Pigwidgeon
Pig wings it towards the Burrow, sensibly, as that's where Harry can now be found. By the time Pig gets there, however, Harry and Ron will have apparated back to Grimmauld Place to change for the ball, not having brought their dress robes to the Burrow. Pig will dutifully fly off after them, only to arrive after they've Flooed to the Ministry, and the poor little owl will again set off hot on their heels. Once he reaches the Ministry this evening, he'll be incredibly frustrated to find that the Auror Office has set new security measures in place for the Yule Ball, and that he'll be unable to deliver his parchment or in fact to reach anyone in the building whatsoever.
Severus would of course have a great deal to say, none of it good, but much of it highly amused, about the inherent stupidity of having the entire upper echelon of the Ministry incommunicado for a security measure at a ball, of all things. Fortunately for all egos involved, he is not consulted or even aware of the matter. Truly it would have provided him with no end of amusement, as well as with added fodder for his ongoing litany about the deficiencies of the DADA program, which organically feeds into the training of the Aurors.
When Harry Floos back to Grimmauld Place at the end of the event, Pig will once again set off after him. As the owl's luck, miserable indeed, holds, Harry will have naturally apparated on to the Burrow after changing out of his dress robes and gathering his things before Pig arrives. The poor owl, his feathers now well and truly ruffled, will throw in the proverbial towel for the rest of the night and, completely fed up, find a nice branch to kip until morning.
-~HG/SS~-
Hogsmeade, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon, Hermione
Hermione doesn't wish to rush about her errands, so it's time to get going. She gathers her shopping list, basket, beaded bag, winter clothing and accessories. Almost looking forward to this rare trip off campus, she gets appropriately dressed, sets her wards and leaves her rooms. On her way out, she meets a few students who yell their greetings in passing as they rush off to their extracurricular DADA practice sessions, laughing and still very much overexcited, probably about the holidays or maybe a snowball fight. She makes her way out of the castle to the gates.
The weather is pleasant. It may be frightfully cold but it's calm, and Warming Charms and winter cloaks should more than sort the temperature. The snow, however, is just far too deep to make walking through it particularly appealing on an uncleared path, so when she leaves the grounds, she apparates to Hogsmeade.
Hermione collects herself as she reappears. She still doesn't like the sensation of apparating, but she suspects no one does. Thinking of alternatives, she wonders if there mightn't be a way to keep from sinking into the snow in the first place, sort of like magical snowshoes, beyond just transfiguring her boots again. Or perhaps one could hover, which would also solve the footprint issue she still hasn't figured out. It bears thinking about, so she does.
Hermione doesn't come to Hogsmeade often. Point of fact, she very rarely leaves the castle grounds. She had the choice once she finished her apprenticeship last August (and if she'd pushed for it, probably even before then) to move to Hogsmeade and not remain living in Hogwarts. She's not a head of house, and she isn't required to live there. But she has a good deal more privacy behind the school's gates, her celebrity causes hardly a stir on campus, and she vastly prefers the company. Really.
Additionally, room and board are provided at Hogwarts, and although Hogsmeade rents hardly rival London's, they aren't exactly low either. Whilst she undeniably saves a good deal (perhaps some day, in the distant future, she'll buy a cottage), it's in the school's interests to coax as many staff members as possible into living there, as that provides them with the warm bodies ('well, warm except for the ghosts') to manage whatever mischief the students throw at them. Having been one of the more challenging students herself, she now has a well earned appreciation for the problems faculty face. And how much could an appetite like hers actually cost the school? ('It would be another matter entirely if they had to feed Ronald...' That could get pricey indeed. 'And messy.')
Looking around, she can't help noticing how greatly Hogsmeade has changed since her first visit here all those years ago. After the first Wizarding War the town remained largely untouched, constant, until the Death Eaters came again. Then many shops had had to close their doors. Many of those never reopened. Some of the shopkeepers pulled up stakes and went elsewhere. Some even fled the United Kingdom for good, mostly to continental Europe and Canada. And more than a few died in the last war. But even if many of the shops are no longer the same, new shops have opened, replacing the old, and they are flourishing and clearly well tended. Hogsmeade is thriving. Or it is if you live in the present and can let go of the past. That's not always easy.
Her first stop is the jeweler's, because she knows her ask has become a good deal more complex than the hair clip she had initially conceived, and she wants to allow as much time as possible for it. She now has an idea that, coupled with goblin-wrought silver, she is confident should prove a success. The jeweler's sign advertises that he is a distant descendent of Bowman Wright, of Golden Snitch fame, and the approach there is not all too different to what she's after. That aspect, combined with the conservation efforts of the original Wright, wins her over and she enters the shop.
Several hundred years ago, in either the 14th or 16th century, depending on whether one trusts "Quidditch Through the Ages," which she had gifted Ronald for his 19th birthday nearly two years ago (and she starts suddenly realizing that was her last present to him), or the Famous Wizard Cards ('although F&B's research can be spotty...'), Bowman Wright had created the first snitch for use in quidditch, replacing the endangered Golden Snidget in the game. This master stroke of metal charming practically single-handedly saved the Snidget from extinction.
Master Marcus Wright is a tall strawberry-blonde wizard with a more than passing resemblance to one third of the Golden Trio that he seems happy to exploit in suggestive decorations and advertising materials, he himself apparently favoring robes reminiscent of Ron's old Auror's ('training') uniform. Hermione has trouble suppressing a smirk. ('Oddly, he looks nothing like his forebear, who judging by the portrait more closely resembles a bearded Harry.' She quickly decides that Harry should never grow a beard.) She is absolutely positive the red and gold tones in Wright's store are a recent addition, and his haircut will also hardly have been left to chance.
Hermione is highly amused, yet relieved, in light of that to note that he doesn't seem to recognize her ('that's something else that can be said for the locks...'). But she underestimates the difference adulthood, years of stress, and even her dark green winter cloak makes, as it's not the color people are used to seeing her in from the old Prophet articles. Were she to remotely suspect as much, she would happily incendio every red item in her wardrobe. It's also possible that most of the aspects of her design have him thinking along lines more "Slytherin" than "Gryffindor," quite rightly, considering the intended recipient.
Hermione also finds it interesting that her initial reaction to the metal charmer is less than overwhelmingly positive, probably because he's chosen to emulate Ronald ('of all people'). She resolves to try not to hold it against him. ('Or anything else.' Well now she's just being mean...) And as she thinks that, she realizes that she's not altogether sure if it's stemming from her ambivalence towards Ronald, or her growing interest in someone else. ('Goodness.')
She swallows. She's doing that a lot lately.
As she expects, he is quick to inform her that the timing is tight for the goblins' silver, which is fair enough, but of course it's nothing that can't be done for a price. That's characteristic of the goblins at any rate, and of Master Wright as well she suspects. As frugal as she's been these past two years (when would she have had occasion to spend her money, and on what or why?) that's really not an issue in the least. Additionally, her willingness to pay more increases with her certainty that the gift is precisely what she is after, and even then, it truly isn't all too costly. She'd very gladly have paid more.
They discuss her sketches, the details of her designs, and quickly come to a mutually agreeable arrangement. Master Wright assures her the finished product shall be owled to her tomorrow, a Sunday no less, but that doesn't make the least bit of difference to the goblins. ('Or owls, for that matter.') She's quietly impressed by their turn around time, which means she won't have to compromise her design. When she leaves her details for owling, her suspicions about not having been recognized are confirmed as he startles in recognition at her name and gives her an appraising look.
She's still smirking as she exits the store.
Next she enters the tea shop and apothecary. The view of the towering assortment of ingredients, finished potions, salves and tinctures, only held in gravity-defying place by a series of spells, in tiny shops such as this is still staggering after all this time. Outside of the wizarding world, it violates at least a half a dozen building codes. Probably far more. She begins to smile just from the sight of it.
The new proprietor, a diminutive and, as becomes quickly apparent, highly intelligent half-goblin with frightfully hairy ears, is only able to access much of his stock thanks to magic, although examining the height of the displays, Hermione suspects that would be true for anyone. Unlike Master Wright, he recognizes her immediately. When he greets her by name and introduces himself as Potions Master Herewig, Hermione has a devil of a time not laughing having understood "Earwig" by mistake. At least it should prove easy to remember.
The smells in the shop war with the sights, coming a very close second. Hogwarts' elves have supplied her with details as to Severus' blend of choice, after a bit of a search it is found, two packets are quickly floated to the register, and then she sets out looking for a pleasant and relaxing chamomile and lavender blend for Poppy.
The shop has an excellent selection, allowing the customer to blend their own mix. Hermione is appreciative of the recess provided for this purpose, as it is charmed to isolate the scents, and she thinks she has hit on a combination that should please the Matron. Spying some catnip just as she's almost finished, she adds that to the other things, pays the proprietor and rejoins the bustle of last-minute shoppers out on the streets.
With her purchases tucked into her basket, she sets out next for the delicatessen to find Minerva and Filius' nibbles of choice and a few treats for Crooks and Mrs. Norris. And then she's off to Scribner's for handmade paper, the quill set for Minerva, and the book on Origami for Draco. A quick browse through the book convinces her that she likes it so much, she purchases one for herself as well. That's always a good sign that the choice was right. (It might have been a tiny folded paper doe that sold her on it.)
She makes a last stop by Honeydukes for sweets for Sybill ('sherry-filled truffles, what else?') and some toffees for Helga that Madam Flume had warmly recommended. She pauses and then decides to add a small box of marc de champagne truffles for Mrs. Malfoy too (as long as she's sending something to Draco anyway), and then she's all set for Christmas.
Satisfied and quite pleased with her efforts and how the day shaped up, she leaves Honeydukes and avoids the crowds by immediately apparating back to the Hogwarts gates. As she makes her way up the main path to the castle, she thinks some more about the footprint problem, having now discerned three different avenues of attack she'd like to research. It's lovely having a few days free to devote to silly things like this that catch her fancy, and she finds she is enjoying the challenge. Her basket beginning to grow heavy, she casts a lightening charm on it until she reaches her rooms, in a much better mood than when she'd left.
That is until she reaches her door.
She can feel it quite plainly, her wards have been breached.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Hermione investigates the break-in, and Arthur gets an owl and a clue.
Quotes and such:
"Pulling up stakes" is apparently the first uniquely American expression. "The terms 'pull up stakes' or 'pluck up stakes' aren't recorded in the home country of the settlers, that is, England, prior to 1640 and so are authentic American coinage. If we ignore 'mother country', which is known prior to its American usage, then 'pull up stakes' is the earliest known example of a phrase that was coined in America." phrases.org.uk
Lunch is eaten, or not, shopping happens, and someone tries their hand at a spot of B&E. Forsooth!
Originally Published: 2017-02-13 on AO3
Chapter: 12 / 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 appreciated, as is your reading. Ta!
Previously:
Hermione recently told Severus about her parents, still obliviated with no memory of her, and he decided to dig a bit deeper but didn't mention it. Because of course not.
Harry wrote to tell her that Severus is investigating her parents' problem and has asked Arthur for information, as yet not provided. Hermione may have had a thing or two to say about that, little of it nice, much of it snippy, all of it as yet not owled. She's not a happy camper. But then, she's grown to really hate camping.
Severus and Hermione are both coping with caffeine withdrawal, more or less stubbornly, respectively, although Severus' mood may be more severely influenced by the protracted student discussion of his recent bout of laughter. Poor thing.
And Hermione has decided on a Christmas present for the beleaguered Potions Master.
A/N:
So I'm trying an experiment, and feedback would help. There's a bit of local color, background and a couple of original characters in this chapter, some of which I need for later but much is just to flesh out their world. I looked at the thickness of the HP books and decided people here probably weren't adverse to reading, and world building was something I always appreciated. But that's just me. If you would be so kind and let me know how that works for you, it would really help. (Especially as I'm working on the ball scene atm.) Thanks again.
xox Ginger
ETA: EEK! Bowman is canon, folks. Just realized that might not come across *at all*. Sorry. I did a bunch of research (insomniac) to see who I could borrow for my story, but didn't want to force readers to do the same (reading shouldn't be homework) because he's so minor, so I repeated the info on him here. Marcus, Herewig and Helga are my OCs. (And Helga's niece is canon, but not fleshed out.)
Christmas Eve of Adduction... Part 6
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Saturday 23rd December, Lunch, Hermione
She picks at her food, hardly eating.
She's agitated. There's no better word for it. Her hair is even crackling with accidental wandless magic, growing steadily bushier with each passing moment and thought. It hasn't been this bad in years, although the locks at least have a heavier weight and remain more or less in place. At least there's that to be said for them. (Ronald actually had plenty to say for them. 'But none of it good.') She sits there deflated next to Severus with her hair bristling, inexorably, relentlessly increasing in volume.
He mistakes her agitation for a caffeine withdrawal of the first order, and considers that possibly he should provide her with a suitable potion, or ten. In the final analysis, this latest house elf fiasco was his doing after all. And this, he thinks whilst watching her fidget, on top of a cold, will never do. But he hesitates to draw more attention to himself and their interactions in front of the students in light of the rumors already circulating about him and the... laughter. He wouldn't want to appear solicitous on top of everything else. Perhaps he'll Floo something over later. Or have an elf sort it. He snorts faintly thinking that would surely ruffle her feathers more than it would help.
She doesn't notice.
She's conflicted. She's a mess. She's mad at Harry. Hell, she's mad at Ronald, and he didn't even do anything except loan Harry his owl, although since the war she has come to the conclusion that a person's inaction is justification enough to be angry at them. She generally considers that shift in assessment progress, but still, Ron hasn't actually done ('or not done') anything today. (She's not entirely sure how anyone could do and not do something simultaneously, but she's certain if anyone could, that would describe Ronald to a "T.")
She's disappointed in Arthur for not just answering Severus as quickly as possible. Then she desperately tries not to hold caution against him, and decides she's saddened that he turned to Harry and not her directly. Or didn't feel that he could. It's all such a mess.
She's completely floored that Severus is helping her, and she can't stop looking at him only to tear her gaze away so he won't think she's staring. Which she absolutely was, but...
There's something going on with him, too. He's grumpy. ('Well, more than usual.') She wonders if it could be caffeine withdrawal after all? ('Nonsense, he'd have taken a potion.') Or if it's to do with the student... whatever it was? She can't help noticing that he's still glaring at them. ('Well, again, more than usual.') And he really doesn't seem to want to make eye contact with her. Could he be this mad about his tea? Entirely possible, but that still doesn't seem to line up with his reaction quite right, and she's becoming even more troubled the longer she thinks about it.
She returns to her quarters more confused than before, but with a bit of ham in hand for the still ('if not patiently') waiting Pig.
-~HG/SS~-
Hogwarts, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon, Hermione
As has become abundantly clear to her in the last couple of days, she hasn't a surfeit of friends, or even people who care. She can't even think that without wincing. So maybe she is a bit overeager not to alienate those few that do care any more than necessary. But then she always has been a bit keen, really. (As well as friend-poor, come to think of it. 'Ouch.')
So she adds "dubious tea blend" to her shopping list for the afternoon, making a note to herself to ask one of the elves first what exactly Severus drinks. Vaguely she supposes this once again creates work for them, and wonders if simply brewing the tea is less work than the effort involved in explaining the process to her, and lies unsuccessfully to herself that a conversation with her is less a chore than making tea. That reflects her mood. But remembering she has a nice thermos mug in her kitchen, although charms should render that function, or another mug's lack thereof, somewhat moot, she brightens a bit as she considers that she could provide Severus with tea ('sludge') service in the mornings. Perhaps that would help.
The thought of it, coupled with the hints of images of caretaking and the idea that he might trust her enough to drink a beverage she proffered certainly cheers her further. At worst, he'd inconspicuously vanish it, and she'd never be the wiser. At this point, that would still be sufficiently beneficial for her fragile ego. She believes she'll take a win no matter how specious. She's wrong, but there's little point in telling her that now.
Thinking some more about friends she could be inconveniencing, she quickly adds a black pudding for Minerva and Edradour whisky marmalade for Filius to her growing shopping list. And now she's not sure if that would be something she could or should bring with her to the Great Hall to breakfast, or how best to manage this. And the message that sends to the students? And on top of Severus' tea? Things are rarely quite as simple as one believes on setting out.
Her thoughts race and leap around quite a bit. She can't help thinking again and again, with no small degree of amazement, that Severus has apparently decided to take a look at her problem, and what that might possibly mean. Could there actually be any hope for her parents? And really, isn't just the fact that he's willing to look into it important enough in itself? She genuinely can't believe he would trouble himself for her, but it makes her feel... good. Good, and a bit hopeful, although that hope is somewhat ill-defined. And somehow... risky.
The issue, she senses, is that she isn't merely hopeful that his efforts might help her parents. Obviously that would be brilliant; that's not in question. But she's spent so long without a hint of hope now, and so long before that trying desperately not to get her hopes up only to see them dashed again, that, truth be told, she isn't even able to fully explore hope in that context at this time. So the reasons for this strangely hopeful sensation in the pit of her stomach are indeed very interesting. And as she tentatively investigates them, she realizes that what she's actually hoping is that some significance can be attached to his decision to help her. Why has he chosen to do this? And there it is again, that traitorous flutter of hope, deep, deep down in her belly.
She tries to avoid that particular line of thought and give herself some more time to calm down and return to her senses ('if sensible') before dispatching Pig with that scroll to Harry. Or at least that's what she tells herself, but maybe she just can't seem to stop thinking about him, and so she decides to distract herself with thoughts of the Potion Master's Christmas present. Her previous idea was good, but now, knowing he's investigating her parents' situation, it doesn't feel like it's enough. Too mean, too stingy by far. And then she has a brilliant idea, and begins to sketch, quickly yielding a result she finds so much more than satisfactory.
Having put it off as long as she can, she still needs to head into Hogsmeade after all, she considers her letter to Harry one last time. She remains reasonably ('or unreasonably') satisfied with her response and gives it to Pig and, with a last treat for the way, sends him off.
And a good thing she did, too, because that's the last treat he shall get for a while.
-~oOo~-
Out and About, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon and Evening, Pigwidgeon
Pig wings it towards the Burrow, sensibly, as that's where Harry can now be found. By the time Pig gets there, however, Harry and Ron will have apparated back to Grimmauld Place to change for the ball, not having brought their dress robes to the Burrow. Pig will dutifully fly off after them, only to arrive after they've Flooed to the Ministry, and the poor little owl will again set off hot on their heels. Once he reaches the Ministry this evening, he'll be incredibly frustrated to find that the Auror Office has set new security measures in place for the Yule Ball, and that he'll be unable to deliver his parchment or in fact to reach anyone in the building whatsoever.
Severus would of course have a great deal to say, none of it good, but much of it highly amused, about the inherent stupidity of having the entire upper echelon of the Ministry incommunicado for a security measure at a ball, of all things. Fortunately for all egos involved, he is not consulted or even aware of the matter. Truly it would have provided him with no end of amusement, as well as with added fodder for his ongoing litany about the deficiencies of the DADA program, which organically feeds into the training of the Aurors.
When Harry Floos back to Grimmauld Place at the end of the event, Pig will once again set off after him. As the owl's luck, miserable indeed, holds, Harry will have naturally apparated on to the Burrow after changing out of his dress robes and gathering his things before Pig arrives. The poor owl, his feathers now well and truly ruffled, will throw in the proverbial towel for the rest of the night and, completely fed up, find a nice branch to kip until morning.
-~HG/SS~-
Hogsmeade, Saturday 23rd December, Afternoon, Hermione
Hermione doesn't wish to rush about her errands, so it's time to get going. She gathers her shopping list, basket, beaded bag, winter clothing and accessories. Almost looking forward to this rare trip off campus, she gets appropriately dressed, sets her wards and leaves her rooms. On her way out, she meets a few students who yell their greetings in passing as they rush off to their extracurricular DADA practice sessions, laughing and still very much overexcited, probably about the holidays or maybe a snowball fight. She makes her way out of the castle to the gates.
The weather is pleasant. It may be frightfully cold but it's calm, and Warming Charms and winter cloaks should more than sort the temperature. The snow, however, is just far too deep to make walking through it particularly appealing on an uncleared path, so when she leaves the grounds, she apparates to Hogsmeade.
Hermione collects herself as she reappears. She still doesn't like the sensation of apparating, but she suspects no one does. Thinking of alternatives, she wonders if there mightn't be a way to keep from sinking into the snow in the first place, sort of like magical snowshoes, beyond just transfiguring her boots again. Or perhaps one could hover, which would also solve the footprint issue she still hasn't figured out. It bears thinking about, so she does.
Hermione doesn't come to Hogsmeade often. Point of fact, she very rarely leaves the castle grounds. She had the choice once she finished her apprenticeship last August (and if she'd pushed for it, probably even before then) to move to Hogsmeade and not remain living in Hogwarts. She's not a head of house, and she isn't required to live there. But she has a good deal more privacy behind the school's gates, her celebrity causes hardly a stir on campus, and she vastly prefers the company. Really.
Additionally, room and board are provided at Hogwarts, and although Hogsmeade rents hardly rival London's, they aren't exactly low either. Whilst she undeniably saves a good deal (perhaps some day, in the distant future, she'll buy a cottage), it's in the school's interests to coax as many staff members as possible into living there, as that provides them with the warm bodies ('well, warm except for the ghosts') to manage whatever mischief the students throw at them. Having been one of the more challenging students herself, she now has a well earned appreciation for the problems faculty face. And how much could an appetite like hers actually cost the school? ('It would be another matter entirely if they had to feed Ronald...' That could get pricey indeed. 'And messy.')
Looking around, she can't help noticing how greatly Hogsmeade has changed since her first visit here all those years ago. After the first Wizarding War the town remained largely untouched, constant, until the Death Eaters came again. Then many shops had had to close their doors. Many of those never reopened. Some of the shopkeepers pulled up stakes and went elsewhere. Some even fled the United Kingdom for good, mostly to continental Europe and Canada. And more than a few died in the last war. But even if many of the shops are no longer the same, new shops have opened, replacing the old, and they are flourishing and clearly well tended. Hogsmeade is thriving. Or it is if you live in the present and can let go of the past. That's not always easy.
Her first stop is the jeweler's, because she knows her ask has become a good deal more complex than the hair clip she had initially conceived, and she wants to allow as much time as possible for it. She now has an idea that, coupled with goblin-wrought silver, she is confident should prove a success. The jeweler's sign advertises that he is a distant descendent of Bowman Wright, of Golden Snitch fame, and the approach there is not all too different to what she's after. That aspect, combined with the conservation efforts of the original Wright, wins her over and she enters the shop.
Several hundred years ago, in either the 14th or 16th century, depending on whether one trusts "Quidditch Through the Ages," which she had gifted Ronald for his 19th birthday nearly two years ago (and she starts suddenly realizing that was her last present to him), or the Famous Wizard Cards ('although F&B's research can be spotty...'), Bowman Wright had created the first snitch for use in quidditch, replacing the endangered Golden Snidget in the game. This master stroke of metal charming practically single-handedly saved the Snidget from extinction.
Master Marcus Wright is a tall strawberry-blonde wizard with a more than passing resemblance to one third of the Golden Trio that he seems happy to exploit in suggestive decorations and advertising materials, he himself apparently favoring robes reminiscent of Ron's old Auror's ('training') uniform. Hermione has trouble suppressing a smirk. ('Oddly, he looks nothing like his forebear, who judging by the portrait more closely resembles a bearded Harry.' She quickly decides that Harry should never grow a beard.) She is absolutely positive the red and gold tones in Wright's store are a recent addition, and his haircut will also hardly have been left to chance.
Hermione is highly amused, yet relieved, in light of that to note that he doesn't seem to recognize her ('that's something else that can be said for the locks...'). But she underestimates the difference adulthood, years of stress, and even her dark green winter cloak makes, as it's not the color people are used to seeing her in from the old Prophet articles. Were she to remotely suspect as much, she would happily incendio every red item in her wardrobe. It's also possible that most of the aspects of her design have him thinking along lines more "Slytherin" than "Gryffindor," quite rightly, considering the intended recipient.
Hermione also finds it interesting that her initial reaction to the metal charmer is less than overwhelmingly positive, probably because he's chosen to emulate Ronald ('of all people'). She resolves to try not to hold it against him. ('Or anything else.' Well now she's just being mean...) And as she thinks that, she realizes that she's not altogether sure if it's stemming from her ambivalence towards Ronald, or her growing interest in someone else. ('Goodness.')
She swallows. She's doing that a lot lately.
As she expects, he is quick to inform her that the timing is tight for the goblins' silver, which is fair enough, but of course it's nothing that can't be done for a price. That's characteristic of the goblins at any rate, and of Master Wright as well she suspects. As frugal as she's been these past two years (when would she have had occasion to spend her money, and on what or why?) that's really not an issue in the least. Additionally, her willingness to pay more increases with her certainty that the gift is precisely what she is after, and even then, it truly isn't all too costly. She'd very gladly have paid more.
They discuss her sketches, the details of her designs, and quickly come to a mutually agreeable arrangement. Master Wright assures her the finished product shall be owled to her tomorrow, a Sunday no less, but that doesn't make the least bit of difference to the goblins. ('Or owls, for that matter.') She's quietly impressed by their turn around time, which means she won't have to compromise her design. When she leaves her details for owling, her suspicions about not having been recognized are confirmed as he startles in recognition at her name and gives her an appraising look.
She's still smirking as she exits the store.
Next she enters the tea shop and apothecary. The view of the towering assortment of ingredients, finished potions, salves and tinctures, only held in gravity-defying place by a series of spells, in tiny shops such as this is still staggering after all this time. Outside of the wizarding world, it violates at least a half a dozen building codes. Probably far more. She begins to smile just from the sight of it.
The new proprietor, a diminutive and, as becomes quickly apparent, highly intelligent half-goblin with frightfully hairy ears, is only able to access much of his stock thanks to magic, although examining the height of the displays, Hermione suspects that would be true for anyone. Unlike Master Wright, he recognizes her immediately. When he greets her by name and introduces himself as Potions Master Herewig, Hermione has a devil of a time not laughing having understood "Earwig" by mistake. At least it should prove easy to remember.
The smells in the shop war with the sights, coming a very close second. Hogwarts' elves have supplied her with details as to Severus' blend of choice, after a bit of a search it is found, two packets are quickly floated to the register, and then she sets out looking for a pleasant and relaxing chamomile and lavender blend for Poppy.
The shop has an excellent selection, allowing the customer to blend their own mix. Hermione is appreciative of the recess provided for this purpose, as it is charmed to isolate the scents, and she thinks she has hit on a combination that should please the Matron. Spying some catnip just as she's almost finished, she adds that to the other things, pays the proprietor and rejoins the bustle of last-minute shoppers out on the streets.
With her purchases tucked into her basket, she sets out next for the delicatessen to find Minerva and Filius' nibbles of choice and a few treats for Crooks and Mrs. Norris. And then she's off to Scribner's for handmade paper, the quill set for Minerva, and the book on Origami for Draco. A quick browse through the book convinces her that she likes it so much, she purchases one for herself as well. That's always a good sign that the choice was right. (It might have been a tiny folded paper doe that sold her on it.)
She makes a last stop by Honeydukes for sweets for Sybill ('sherry-filled truffles, what else?') and some toffees for Helga that Madam Flume had warmly recommended. She pauses and then decides to add a small box of marc de champagne truffles for Mrs. Malfoy too (as long as she's sending something to Draco anyway), and then she's all set for Christmas.
Satisfied and quite pleased with her efforts and how the day shaped up, she leaves Honeydukes and avoids the crowds by immediately apparating back to the Hogwarts gates. As she makes her way up the main path to the castle, she thinks some more about the footprint problem, having now discerned three different avenues of attack she'd like to research. It's lovely having a few days free to devote to silly things like this that catch her fancy, and she finds she is enjoying the challenge. Her basket beginning to grow heavy, she casts a lightening charm on it until she reaches her rooms, in a much better mood than when she'd left.
That is until she reaches her door.
She can feel it quite plainly, her wards have been breached.
Notes:
Next Chapter:
Hermione investigates the break-in, and Arthur gets an owl and a clue.
Quotes and such:
"Pulling up stakes" is apparently the first uniquely American expression. "The terms 'pull up stakes' or 'pluck up stakes' aren't recorded in the home country of the settlers, that is, England, prior to 1640 and so are authentic American coinage. If we ignore 'mother country', which is known prior to its American usage, then 'pull up stakes' is the earliest known example of a phrase that was coined in America." phrases.org.uk