Yuletide Potions
Title: Yuletide Potions XX
Team: Order of the Phoenix
Word Count: 12 x 100
Rating: all ages (G)
Challenges: Comfort and Joy, Broken Memory Charm
Characters: Severus, Hermione, Monica, Wendell
Start at the beginning
Part XIX
*****
Hermione felt her heart quicken at the change in her mother’s voice, but it was followed by a surge of alarm as Monica scrunched her eyes shut, moaning.
She was at her mother’s feet in an instant. “Mum?”
Dad had put his arm around his wife, supporting her as she gritted her teeth. “Monica?” he whispered.
Hermione blinked, apprehensive. She’d never heard her dad sound so frightened before. She looked to Severus for reassurance, for support … and saw him nodding slightly, his face relaxed. He nodded sharply to Hermione, who looked back at her mother.
“A sudden headache,” Monica whispered.
*
Severus knelt next to Hermione, murmuring, “This is normal, on the rare occasion that memory charms are broken. She needs a few minutes.” He drew a small vial from his pocket. “And a migraine remedy.” He thumbed the stopper out and handed it to Wendell, who supported his wife and coaxed her to drink.
Hermione winced, her vision blurring. Granted, she hadn’t found much information about memory charms to begin with, but she hadn’t realized she’d see her mother suffer even more for Hermione’s impulsiveness. Sighing, she went to the kitchen to get some water - and to gather her thoughts.
*
She angrily swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, while she filled a tumbler with water. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Surely there must have been some other way to rescue themselves from Umbridge and her imbecilic Inquisitorial Squad. She should have trusted Severus to know what Harry had been talking about!
Severus. But she hadn’t known him then like she did now. Who would have thought Professor Snape was such a good kisser?
Hermione groaned. What was she going to say, when her parents realized that Severus and her difficult, prejudiced Potions teacher had the same last name?
*
Water splashed over her hand, bringing her back to the here-and-now. Hermione poured a bit out and shook the excess from her hand, going back to the sitting room. “Here,” she murmured, kneeling in front of her mother again. “Severus’ potions are effective, but they aren’t always palatable.” She smiled, simultaneously teasing Severus and reassuring her mother. Hermione could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, but she kept watching her mother’s face.
Monica drank the water and said, “Thank you, darling.”
Hermione’s breath hitched. “I … do you -”
“I remember,” her mother said hesitantly, frowning. “I think.”
*
Monica sat back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be all right. Take care of your father.”
Hermione nodded, meeting her father’s gaze, and she winced slightly. For all that she was grown and had been on her own in many ways for years, that stern look could still make her cringe. She knew her father was fiercely protective of his wife. “Severus, can we give him the pain relief ahead of time?”
“No.”
“Okay. Just … relax, Dad.” She took a deep breath, focusing on the spell and her intent to make him whole again. Hermione cast the charm.
*
A moment later, Hermione was pressing another potion and glass of water into her father’s hands. Her mother, over the worst of her pain but a bit dazed from the potent potion, lounged against the back of the sofa and stroked her husband’s hair as he dealt with the mental onslaught.
Hermione drew breath to speak, but Severus pulled her from the room, murmuring, “Let them be for a bit longer. They need to deal with it on their own.”
In the kitchen, she stepped close to him, holding his face in her hands. “Thank you so much for everything.”
*
Severus looked a little uncomfortable, but he replied, “You’re welcome.” He pulled her into his arms, and Hermione let out a little, contented sigh.
After a moment, she said, “You’ve given up a great deal to bring me here. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve … I know it’s a business day, but … could you stay here for Christmas?”
She felt a new tension in his embrace. “It looks like we’ve succeeded in restoring your parents’ memories. If they seem to be all right, I should go home. You need time with your family.”
“I want to be with the people I love.”
*
Thinking quickly, she added, “Besides, you said I should stay, and how am I going to get home without you?”
They shifted apart, looking at each other. He raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “The same way you always got here before.”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. He’d seen through her ploy, of course. Slytherin. Why do I bother? But she did prefer Portkey travel to Floo, especially on such long journeys. “We’re ten hours ahead of Britain. It’ll make for a long day, but would you stay through part of Christmas Eve? Then we’ll go home together and open the shop.”
*
It looked like Severus was going to argue yet again, but Monica took that moment to enter the kitchen. “Please consider it, Severus. You will always be welcome in our home, and not just because of your kindness to Wendell and myself.” She glanced at Hermione and Severus, who were still holding hands, and she smiled as she put the kettle on.
Severus nodded, acquiescing. “Thank you. But,” he said, turning to Hermione, “we must return to Hogsmeade no later than seven a.m., so we can open as usual at nine.”
Hermione practically pounced, hugging him tightly in her delight.
*
Hermione had never had a Christmas like this before. First of all, it was on Christmas Eve, not the day itself. Second, there was nothing to unwrap. Her parents had presents for each other, but as they’d spent the last few years unaware that Hermione Granger was anything other than an eccentric friend, they had nothing to give her but their forgiveness. Hermione accepted it gratefully.
They had no presents for Severus, either. He didn’t seem to mind, though; he spent his time conversing with each of them, seemingly more at ease with them and himself, with each passing hour.
*
Inevitably, five o’clock drew near. Monica sat on the sofa, watching her daughter pack. “Are you sure you won’t come home with us?” Hermione asked for the fifth time.
“Your father and I discussed it last night. We’ll stay here a while. It feels like things are still missing up here,” she said, touching her temple. “Now that we know more, we’ll make informed decisions for ourselves.”
Despite their assertions of forgiveness earlier, Hermione scowled at her bag, ashamed yet again.
Monica leaned forward, touching Hermione’s hand. “Darling, you did what you thought was right, and you preserved our lives.”
*
Hermione nodded, smiling. Minerva was right; guilt was a nasty parasite. “I’ll come to see you soon,” she promised.
“Please do. And bring your Severus again.”
Hermione blushed fiercely, whispering, “Not … my Severus.”
Monica just kissed her daughter as Wendell and a rather uncomfortable-looking Severus entered the room.
In the backyard, Hermione demanded, “What did my father talk to you about?” She laid a finger on their Portkey.
He merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing … but she could see a faint flush on his high cheekbones. They felt the sharp tug behind their navels, and they were off.
*****
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig: Part XXI
Team: Order of the Phoenix
Word Count: 12 x 100
Rating: all ages (G)
Challenges: Comfort and Joy, Broken Memory Charm
Characters: Severus, Hermione, Monica, Wendell
Start at the beginning
Part XIX
*****
Hermione felt her heart quicken at the change in her mother’s voice, but it was followed by a surge of alarm as Monica scrunched her eyes shut, moaning.
She was at her mother’s feet in an instant. “Mum?”
Dad had put his arm around his wife, supporting her as she gritted her teeth. “Monica?” he whispered.
Hermione blinked, apprehensive. She’d never heard her dad sound so frightened before. She looked to Severus for reassurance, for support … and saw him nodding slightly, his face relaxed. He nodded sharply to Hermione, who looked back at her mother.
“A sudden headache,” Monica whispered.
*
Severus knelt next to Hermione, murmuring, “This is normal, on the rare occasion that memory charms are broken. She needs a few minutes.” He drew a small vial from his pocket. “And a migraine remedy.” He thumbed the stopper out and handed it to Wendell, who supported his wife and coaxed her to drink.
Hermione winced, her vision blurring. Granted, she hadn’t found much information about memory charms to begin with, but she hadn’t realized she’d see her mother suffer even more for Hermione’s impulsiveness. Sighing, she went to the kitchen to get some water - and to gather her thoughts.
*
She angrily swiped at her tears with the back of her hand, while she filled a tumbler with water. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Surely there must have been some other way to rescue themselves from Umbridge and her imbecilic Inquisitorial Squad. She should have trusted Severus to know what Harry had been talking about!
Severus. But she hadn’t known him then like she did now. Who would have thought Professor Snape was such a good kisser?
Hermione groaned. What was she going to say, when her parents realized that Severus and her difficult, prejudiced Potions teacher had the same last name?
*
Water splashed over her hand, bringing her back to the here-and-now. Hermione poured a bit out and shook the excess from her hand, going back to the sitting room. “Here,” she murmured, kneeling in front of her mother again. “Severus’ potions are effective, but they aren’t always palatable.” She smiled, simultaneously teasing Severus and reassuring her mother. Hermione could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face, but she kept watching her mother’s face.
Monica drank the water and said, “Thank you, darling.”
Hermione’s breath hitched. “I … do you -”
“I remember,” her mother said hesitantly, frowning. “I think.”
*
Monica sat back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll be all right. Take care of your father.”
Hermione nodded, meeting her father’s gaze, and she winced slightly. For all that she was grown and had been on her own in many ways for years, that stern look could still make her cringe. She knew her father was fiercely protective of his wife. “Severus, can we give him the pain relief ahead of time?”
“No.”
“Okay. Just … relax, Dad.” She took a deep breath, focusing on the spell and her intent to make him whole again. Hermione cast the charm.
*
A moment later, Hermione was pressing another potion and glass of water into her father’s hands. Her mother, over the worst of her pain but a bit dazed from the potent potion, lounged against the back of the sofa and stroked her husband’s hair as he dealt with the mental onslaught.
Hermione drew breath to speak, but Severus pulled her from the room, murmuring, “Let them be for a bit longer. They need to deal with it on their own.”
In the kitchen, she stepped close to him, holding his face in her hands. “Thank you so much for everything.”
*
Severus looked a little uncomfortable, but he replied, “You’re welcome.” He pulled her into his arms, and Hermione let out a little, contented sigh.
After a moment, she said, “You’ve given up a great deal to bring me here. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve … I know it’s a business day, but … could you stay here for Christmas?”
She felt a new tension in his embrace. “It looks like we’ve succeeded in restoring your parents’ memories. If they seem to be all right, I should go home. You need time with your family.”
“I want to be with the people I love.”
*
Thinking quickly, she added, “Besides, you said I should stay, and how am I going to get home without you?”
They shifted apart, looking at each other. He raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “The same way you always got here before.”
Hermione wrinkled her nose. He’d seen through her ploy, of course. Slytherin. Why do I bother? But she did prefer Portkey travel to Floo, especially on such long journeys. “We’re ten hours ahead of Britain. It’ll make for a long day, but would you stay through part of Christmas Eve? Then we’ll go home together and open the shop.”
*
It looked like Severus was going to argue yet again, but Monica took that moment to enter the kitchen. “Please consider it, Severus. You will always be welcome in our home, and not just because of your kindness to Wendell and myself.” She glanced at Hermione and Severus, who were still holding hands, and she smiled as she put the kettle on.
Severus nodded, acquiescing. “Thank you. But,” he said, turning to Hermione, “we must return to Hogsmeade no later than seven a.m., so we can open as usual at nine.”
Hermione practically pounced, hugging him tightly in her delight.
*
Hermione had never had a Christmas like this before. First of all, it was on Christmas Eve, not the day itself. Second, there was nothing to unwrap. Her parents had presents for each other, but as they’d spent the last few years unaware that Hermione Granger was anything other than an eccentric friend, they had nothing to give her but their forgiveness. Hermione accepted it gratefully.
They had no presents for Severus, either. He didn’t seem to mind, though; he spent his time conversing with each of them, seemingly more at ease with them and himself, with each passing hour.
*
Inevitably, five o’clock drew near. Monica sat on the sofa, watching her daughter pack. “Are you sure you won’t come home with us?” Hermione asked for the fifth time.
“Your father and I discussed it last night. We’ll stay here a while. It feels like things are still missing up here,” she said, touching her temple. “Now that we know more, we’ll make informed decisions for ourselves.”
Despite their assertions of forgiveness earlier, Hermione scowled at her bag, ashamed yet again.
Monica leaned forward, touching Hermione’s hand. “Darling, you did what you thought was right, and you preserved our lives.”
*
Hermione nodded, smiling. Minerva was right; guilt was a nasty parasite. “I’ll come to see you soon,” she promised.
“Please do. And bring your Severus again.”
Hermione blushed fiercely, whispering, “Not … my Severus.”
Monica just kissed her daughter as Wendell and a rather uncomfortable-looking Severus entered the room.
In the backyard, Hermione demanded, “What did my father talk to you about?” She laid a finger on their Portkey.
He merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing … but she could see a faint flush on his high cheekbones. They felt the sharp tug behind their navels, and they were off.
*****
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig: Part XXI