Yuletide Potions II
Title: Yuletide Potions
Team: the Order of the Phoenix
Word Count: 13 x 100
Rating: G
Challenges: Santa Severus, Secret Wish
Characters: Severus, Hermione, Minerva
Author’s Notes: Much gratitude to Shug, who kicked this round robin off so beautifully! Here’s the second installment in our little experiment. Happy holidays! *waves*
Part One
*****
Severus was relieved when Hermione encouraged the children to thank Santa for coming to visit. A glance at Minerva confirmed that he was finally allowed to escape, but a well-worded reminder of blackmail in his ear forced him to turn back around, wave, and let out a somewhat forced, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”
The little rats cheered shrilly. Severus fled to the lavatory, Minerva on his heels.
“Well, that wasn’t bad,” she said, leaning her head back against the door.
Severus released the Glamour over his face, disgust for the evening’s events dripping from every word: “I loathe you.”
*
Immune to his fiercest glare, Minerva chuckled. “I know.” She approached him and took his hand, an affectionate glow in her eyes.
Sighing, Severus pulled off the beard and wig, leaned over, and kissed Minerva’s cheek. He loved the old cat, he truly did, but she was exasperating.
She left the loo so he could undress, and his mind drifted back to Hermione.
Alone? She’d lost her parents; after being unable to reverse the memory charm she’d placed on them, she’d left them to their lives in Sydney. But what about her gonk of a fiancé? What about the Potters?
*
Scowling, Severus yanked the hideous red coat over his head and tossed it on a chair. The trousers followed quickly, and he was fastening his black cloak when he heard a tentative knock at the door, followed by a quiet, “Erm, Santa?”
Hermione. He imagined the condescending smirk he’d see on her face tomorrow morning, if she knew it was he who had spent two hours sitting here like some lobotomized imbecile, letting those children tumble all over him like puppies. He had to get out of here.
“Do you want some tea before -”
Grabbing his scarf, he Apparated away.
***
Hermione heard the pop and knew he’d gone. The occasional tightening around those bright blue eyes when she’d brought another child over to sit on his lap was a pretty clear indication of a first-class headache. She’d been embarrassed by her confession, and wanted to offer him a cuppa as a thank-you.
She elbowed the door open. A few waves of her wand folded and Disillusioned the suit, wig, and beard … she didn’t want one of the children coming in here and seeing it.
Sighing, she sat on the hallway floor and sipped the tea she’d made for him.
*
Hermione flexed her aching feet in her shoes, relishing the relative quiet of the hallway. Minerva could handle the children for a few minutes.
For the hundredth time today, she wondered what was wrong with her. Ron was a good friend, not unintelligent, and he and George were making a good living. Friday night, when she’d again asked about setting a date, he’d brushed it off. She’d been relieved. Again.
Then she’d made the mistake of asking him why they couldn’t set a date. The discussion descended into yet another row, only ending when she threw Ron’s ring at him.
*
A particularly loud squeal brought Hermione back to the here and now. She’d taken five minutes, which could be an eternity when dealing with small children. She sipped the last of her tea with a sigh and stood, tossing the foam cup into the rubbish bin.
Though Hermione volunteered to stay, Minerva smiled and shook her head. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, my dear. I’m sure you have things to do to prepare for work in the morning.”
Hermione stepped out of the makeshift orphanage, trudging through the snow towards the Hogsmeade Apothecary, the cold, brittle stars sparkling overhead.
***
Severus stepped into his tiny cottage, stamping the dirty slush from his boots. After locking the door and reestablishing the wards, he sat in a chair and yanked off his coat, glaring at his image in the mirror.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Hermione. Hermione. This familiarity was a problem in itself; he let her call him by his first name and had been foolish enough to follow suit. Now it seemed that he actually cared about her, which was preposterous.
Damn Minerva. He’d given into her demands today. Not when she’d threatened him, but when she’d threatened his employee.
*
Ten minutes later, he was soaking in a bath with a strong cup of Earl Grey - not that Chinese green hogwash Hermione preferred - on a chair.
Absently, he fingered the jagged, twin scars on his neck. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t erase the marks any more than he could erase the memories of that horrible day.
By the time someone had gone to the Shack to collect his body, Fawkes had already arrived, wept over Severus’ wounds, and took him to Grandfather Prince’s cottage in Northumberland. He had stayed here, building his strength to create a new life.
*
Just before ten, Severus set his book down, removed his reading glasses, and blew out the candle. He knew he’d have a difficult time falling asleep tonight. He couldn’t get Hermione’s sad eyes out of his mind.
He had to sleep! With Christmas approaching, the demand for certain potions rose dramatically. He had to start work early tomorrow - Hermione was his research assistant, and they made the potions for the Hogsmeade Apothecary, which she ran - and all he could think of was the fact that it was almost certain that she had broken her engagement.
And that she was alone.
***
She could have Apparated from one side of town to the other, but she liked walking through the village, especially when everything was decorated for Christmas. Candles lit her way as she walked along High Street, illuminating the snow on the ground and buildings around her. She waved at Mrs Flume, who was stocking the shelves in Honeydukes Sweetshop, and unlocked the door that led to her home.
Once inside, Hermione stamped the snow from her boots and ascended to her tiny flat above the Hogsmeade Apothecary. She entered her home, locking the door behind her and reestablishing the wards.
*
Shivering, Hermione shed her coat and wellies, pulling a pair of slippers on her socked feet. After a cup of hot chocolate, she went through her evening ablutions: brushing and flossing her teeth, washing her face, and wrestling her hair into a braid. The routine helped her sort through her tangled emotions, still so raw after the row with Ron:
Frigid ...
Nag ...
Heartless cow ....
She loved him, but he didn’t make her happy. He never had.
It had to be love, what she felt for Ron ... otherwise, she would never have stuck around with him for so long. Would she?
*
Whatever it had been, it was over now. Hermione had no family left.
Mum and Dad didn’t remember that she existed.
The Weasleys rallied behind Ron.
Where his wife went, Harry followed.
A cold sensation, like a Dementor’s approach, tickled her chest. Hermione tried to think of something would keep the tears at bay ....
Tomorrow was Monday.
Working for Severus was actually a pleasant experience. They’d found a good balance: she sold his potions, and his reputation allowed her own to gain ground in the men’s club that called itself the Potions Masters Board.
She smiled, snuggling under the covers.
***
Minerva hummed a lullaby to a cranky toddler. She’d spent too much time around Albus; two months ago, shortly after learning that Hermione was actually Severus’ employee - the face running the Apothecary - and that he’d had successfully bid on the Arsenius Jigger franchise, she’d descended upon them for tea. It had taken her ten minutes of observing her friends congenially conversing with each other to decide that these two would suit. Even when they rowed, they were not unkind.
Today, the sight of Hermione’s bare hand had made Minerva’s old heart leap.
She smiled softly, satisfied with her day’s work.
*****
(Okay, I know that “gonk” is probably too Irish a word for Severus Snape to be using, even in his own head, but I like the sound of it, so I used it anyway.)
Part Three
Team: the Order of the Phoenix
Word Count: 13 x 100
Rating: G
Challenges: Santa Severus, Secret Wish
Characters: Severus, Hermione, Minerva
Author’s Notes: Much gratitude to Shug, who kicked this round robin off so beautifully! Here’s the second installment in our little experiment. Happy holidays! *waves*
Part One
*****
Severus was relieved when Hermione encouraged the children to thank Santa for coming to visit. A glance at Minerva confirmed that he was finally allowed to escape, but a well-worded reminder of blackmail in his ear forced him to turn back around, wave, and let out a somewhat forced, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”
The little rats cheered shrilly. Severus fled to the lavatory, Minerva on his heels.
“Well, that wasn’t bad,” she said, leaning her head back against the door.
Severus released the Glamour over his face, disgust for the evening’s events dripping from every word: “I loathe you.”
*
Immune to his fiercest glare, Minerva chuckled. “I know.” She approached him and took his hand, an affectionate glow in her eyes.
Sighing, Severus pulled off the beard and wig, leaned over, and kissed Minerva’s cheek. He loved the old cat, he truly did, but she was exasperating.
She left the loo so he could undress, and his mind drifted back to Hermione.
Alone? She’d lost her parents; after being unable to reverse the memory charm she’d placed on them, she’d left them to their lives in Sydney. But what about her gonk of a fiancé? What about the Potters?
*
Scowling, Severus yanked the hideous red coat over his head and tossed it on a chair. The trousers followed quickly, and he was fastening his black cloak when he heard a tentative knock at the door, followed by a quiet, “Erm, Santa?”
Hermione. He imagined the condescending smirk he’d see on her face tomorrow morning, if she knew it was he who had spent two hours sitting here like some lobotomized imbecile, letting those children tumble all over him like puppies. He had to get out of here.
“Do you want some tea before -”
Grabbing his scarf, he Apparated away.
***
Hermione heard the pop and knew he’d gone. The occasional tightening around those bright blue eyes when she’d brought another child over to sit on his lap was a pretty clear indication of a first-class headache. She’d been embarrassed by her confession, and wanted to offer him a cuppa as a thank-you.
She elbowed the door open. A few waves of her wand folded and Disillusioned the suit, wig, and beard … she didn’t want one of the children coming in here and seeing it.
Sighing, she sat on the hallway floor and sipped the tea she’d made for him.
*
Hermione flexed her aching feet in her shoes, relishing the relative quiet of the hallway. Minerva could handle the children for a few minutes.
For the hundredth time today, she wondered what was wrong with her. Ron was a good friend, not unintelligent, and he and George were making a good living. Friday night, when she’d again asked about setting a date, he’d brushed it off. She’d been relieved. Again.
Then she’d made the mistake of asking him why they couldn’t set a date. The discussion descended into yet another row, only ending when she threw Ron’s ring at him.
*
A particularly loud squeal brought Hermione back to the here and now. She’d taken five minutes, which could be an eternity when dealing with small children. She sipped the last of her tea with a sigh and stood, tossing the foam cup into the rubbish bin.
Though Hermione volunteered to stay, Minerva smiled and shook her head. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, my dear. I’m sure you have things to do to prepare for work in the morning.”
Hermione stepped out of the makeshift orphanage, trudging through the snow towards the Hogsmeade Apothecary, the cold, brittle stars sparkling overhead.
***
Severus stepped into his tiny cottage, stamping the dirty slush from his boots. After locking the door and reestablishing the wards, he sat in a chair and yanked off his coat, glaring at his image in the mirror.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Hermione. Hermione. This familiarity was a problem in itself; he let her call him by his first name and had been foolish enough to follow suit. Now it seemed that he actually cared about her, which was preposterous.
Damn Minerva. He’d given into her demands today. Not when she’d threatened him, but when she’d threatened his employee.
*
Ten minutes later, he was soaking in a bath with a strong cup of Earl Grey - not that Chinese green hogwash Hermione preferred - on a chair.
Absently, he fingered the jagged, twin scars on his neck. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t erase the marks any more than he could erase the memories of that horrible day.
By the time someone had gone to the Shack to collect his body, Fawkes had already arrived, wept over Severus’ wounds, and took him to Grandfather Prince’s cottage in Northumberland. He had stayed here, building his strength to create a new life.
*
Just before ten, Severus set his book down, removed his reading glasses, and blew out the candle. He knew he’d have a difficult time falling asleep tonight. He couldn’t get Hermione’s sad eyes out of his mind.
He had to sleep! With Christmas approaching, the demand for certain potions rose dramatically. He had to start work early tomorrow - Hermione was his research assistant, and they made the potions for the Hogsmeade Apothecary, which she ran - and all he could think of was the fact that it was almost certain that she had broken her engagement.
And that she was alone.
***
She could have Apparated from one side of town to the other, but she liked walking through the village, especially when everything was decorated for Christmas. Candles lit her way as she walked along High Street, illuminating the snow on the ground and buildings around her. She waved at Mrs Flume, who was stocking the shelves in Honeydukes Sweetshop, and unlocked the door that led to her home.
Once inside, Hermione stamped the snow from her boots and ascended to her tiny flat above the Hogsmeade Apothecary. She entered her home, locking the door behind her and reestablishing the wards.
*
Shivering, Hermione shed her coat and wellies, pulling a pair of slippers on her socked feet. After a cup of hot chocolate, she went through her evening ablutions: brushing and flossing her teeth, washing her face, and wrestling her hair into a braid. The routine helped her sort through her tangled emotions, still so raw after the row with Ron:
Frigid ...
Nag ...
Heartless cow ....
She loved him, but he didn’t make her happy. He never had.
It had to be love, what she felt for Ron ... otherwise, she would never have stuck around with him for so long. Would she?
*
Whatever it had been, it was over now. Hermione had no family left.
Mum and Dad didn’t remember that she existed.
The Weasleys rallied behind Ron.
Where his wife went, Harry followed.
A cold sensation, like a Dementor’s approach, tickled her chest. Hermione tried to think of something would keep the tears at bay ....
Tomorrow was Monday.
Working for Severus was actually a pleasant experience. They’d found a good balance: she sold his potions, and his reputation allowed her own to gain ground in the men’s club that called itself the Potions Masters Board.
She smiled, snuggling under the covers.
***
Minerva hummed a lullaby to a cranky toddler. She’d spent too much time around Albus; two months ago, shortly after learning that Hermione was actually Severus’ employee - the face running the Apothecary - and that he’d had successfully bid on the Arsenius Jigger franchise, she’d descended upon them for tea. It had taken her ten minutes of observing her friends congenially conversing with each other to decide that these two would suit. Even when they rowed, they were not unkind.
Today, the sight of Hermione’s bare hand had made Minerva’s old heart leap.
She smiled softly, satisfied with her day’s work.
*****
(Okay, I know that “gonk” is probably too Irish a word for Severus Snape to be using, even in his own head, but I like the sound of it, so I used it anyway.)
Part Three