“beyond wandpoint” 103b by gingerbred
Mar. 24th, 2019 03:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 12p Wednesday - Practice and Discovery” Part 2
Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Harper Hutchinson, Aaron Avery, Sheldon Shafiq, Hestia Carrow, Valerie Vaisey, Others: Crookshanks, Mentioned briefly: Slytherins: Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Ella Wilkins, Flora Carrow Others: Sunny, Slinky
In which Severus has wood, and Hermione wishes she had game as she tries to entice him into her bedroom.
(Seriously, people? Tsk. You should really know me better by now...)
Originally Published: 2019-02-04 on AO3
Chapter: 103 part 2
The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.
Millie slips the Potion to Draco when they reach the pitch with a few words of - rather deliberately misleading - explanation. He gratefully downs it, and attributes some of Blaise's deficiencies to the fact that's the second dose Draco has had today while his friend hasn't had a single one. While that's partially correct, he naturally has no way of knowing that their chief house elf had dosed Blaise's lunch with Insalacious Saltpetre. Draco's guilt over claiming the Pain Relief for his own use - he consoles himself that the three Serpents had warranted it - keeps him from swapping Blaise out for Harper for the first quarter of the practice session. When he finally does, it brings Aaron in for Harper's position, too. With Millie and Sheldon flying for Vince and Gregory, that means all the reserve team members are now getting involved.
Of course, they've already had one rigorous practice today and aren't used to it.
Unsurprisingly, practice doesn't go all that well.
Draco hovers there, observing, unsure what he can do to improve the situation. But if this is the best they have to offer... Merlin. It's enough to make him ruffle his hair, a nearly impossible feat with the amount of Macassar on it, not that it stops him from trying. He's lucky enough to be unconscious of the gesture and the involuntary resemblance that lends him to Snotter, or would, had the latter been dipped in Brylcreem.
Their practice session certainly highlights how much they need Vince and Gregory out there, and Blaise... Nimue's knickers, they need him fit, too. Fine, that last was down to the Poste Serpente, but the other two... That had been House shenanigans, plain and simple, and if they don't put a stop to it and soon, there's no way they can hope to win the match against Gryffindor.
He watches Sheldon strike a Bludger dangerously close to the others and Aaron change course at the last minute to fly directly into its path. Hestia and Val just barely manage to catch him. Merlin's blighted bollocks, it's like Aaron hadn't even looked, which was probably the case. Draco swears under his breath and calls Harper over.
Harper had visibly relaxed once Draco gave them all the news Vince (and Gregory) wouldn't be out of the Infirmary until after dinner, but the tension is returning the longer he struggles with his new task of Keeping.
"What's wrong with everyone today?" Draco wants to know. "I know they can play better than this, or they'd never have made the team. But this... This is just pathetic." It's a toss up if he's more frustrated or disgusted. Neither response is winning him any friends here.
Harper considers for a minute before admitting he's got the others practising during lunch. Let the seventh year think of that what he will...
Draco takes a moment to let that sink in. He can well imagine why they're taking such measures. Harper evidently thinks the seventh years are about as buggered as Draco himself suspects they are. Or will be.
His reply surprises Harper, though. "It's probably a good idea, as long as you don't over do it. I think Sheldon is simply exhausted. That Bludger should have been hit well clear of the rest, and instead..." Well, yes, they'd both seen the 'instead'. And Aaron is still whinging to beat the band.
Personally, Harper suspects Sheldon hadn't gotten much sleep last night, what with the wings of his own and then waiting up for a chance to try the Charm on Vince, as he so clearly and effectively had, but it's probably not the best idea to say so. "I was hoping to work on his general condition in the process," Harper shrugs. "All of theirs."
Draco watches Millie struggle to catch up to a Bludger that keeps eluding her bat and shakes his head. "Harper, if you have any influence over the others in the House, you might want to give some thought to using it to convince them to take things down a notch. What they did to Vince..." Harper's expression doesn't soften, and Draco points to Aaron, failing to catch the Quaffle Hestia lobs his way. "We can't hope to beat the Moggies like this." When the Quaffle keeps sailing past and strikes Millie from behind ('Bloody hell!'), Harper is almost tempted to agree. But it's early days yet. They still have time.
When he doesn't yield, Draco redoubles his efforts, "You can't possibly want to let them win?"
"Don't be daft. But if you want to be sure they don't, you should probably see about guaranteeing that everyone gets some practice in, and I don't mean just our lunchtime sessions." They need to train those three, and well, leading up to the match. And, belts and braces, they need to train him to Keep more, too.
Draco slouches, his resignation evident. Harper's right, naturally, not that he cares to admit it, or accept what that most likely means for himself.
And the others, obviously.
The seventh year has opened the door, and Harper means to press his advantage. "All four of you missed practice yesterday. You missed it on the weekend. Vince and Gregory are missing again today. That might be happening more regularly moving forward..." Harper doesn't get explicit, but Draco certainly can't say the thought hadn't occurred to him. Harper makes it more palatable by not suggesting there'd be a need for someone else to practice Seeking as well. Truthfully, that's about thirty percent tactic, but it really would be a question of spreading himself too thin. He can't Chase and Keep and Seek.
Harper gives it a little more thought and then opts for plain speech, "I'm not going to lie, Draco. The three Serpents you got are a real problem. Your aunt..." There really don't seem to be words to describe her, and Harper has never even met the woman. But Draco couldn't agree with him more. "And old Nott didn't do you any favours either. Three." As if Draco could forget. Fortunately he's savvy enough not to scoff. "The others couldn't help noticing that. What are they supposed to think?"
It's not that Harper thinks much differently, he doesn't, but he has some additional thoughts. For one, Draco's right, there's the game to worry about, and Harper's exceptionally goal oriented. They won't win the House cup, Dumblebore never lets them, but they'll lose the match to the Moggies only over Harper's prostrate and beaten body. And he's not bleeding likely to take a beating unless there's a Knut in it, so the matter is basically settled as far as he's concerned.
For another, he's an older brother, and he's also the boys' Prefect for his year, just like Draco. Harper knows very well that some people will always be held more responsible for events than others, whether they were or not, whether they could have even done anything about them or not. He's often been held accountable for Hunter's actions over the years, and he knows both he and Draco have been chastised by faculty in the past for things the others in their respective years have gotten up to. 'You should have known better...' 'You should have stopped it...' Because that usually works. And Draco's insane aunt has sent him Poste Serpentes so regularly, Harper's not inclined to trust her judgment one iota.
Vince on the other hand... He opened his Serpent in private, he chose to knowing what that meant - fewer witnesses, more pain - and they'd all seen the state of him after. And that's only the second time they've seen a Serpent go for anything but the neck... Harper is sure there is more to the story.
"But if we can make it clear to the rest of the House how crucial you are to the team," Harper continues, "maybe they won't single you out as much."
They all know Vince had been hit so badly because he'd been available and vulnerable, all alone in the common room so soon after the news that the boys were the reason the Head had had to bond the Muggle-born Moggie. Draco is all too aware he'd have been the preferred target, all things being equal. He certainly means to see that he doesn't present the others with that kind of opportunity in the future.
Draco's no fool. Harper isn't offering him forgiveness. But he is offering something by way of a reprieve. And because Draco isn't a fool, that has him changing his usual tactics.
"Did you have any ideas as to how we can make sure everyone gets the practice they might need?" Draco almost never seeks advice, certainly not from younger students, and never from those outside of the Dark Lord's chosen families. It's unusual enough on so many levels that Harper just flies there blinking stupidly for a moment before answering.
"We could play using only half the pitch, and make two smaller teams out of it. Even if all of us are playing, we'd still only have four Chasers. Halving the field reduces some of the distance we'd have to cover and concentrates the players, making things more difficult. To score a goal, the team has to cross the midline with the Quaffle and then return."
Draco nods, it's not a bad idea. Truthfully, they tend to concentrate on drills and neglect training the reserve players, because they just aren't the priority. But this sounds like no one would come up short. They wouldn't be training the reserve teammates at the expense of the regular players' practice.
"And how do you get time in Keeping?"
"Blaise and I can alternate who needs to make the save based on who is shooting. That puts one team at a slight disadvantage in terms of a Chaser to intercept the Quaffle, but we're down a Seeker anyway. We're not playing for points here, just for experience."
"Well we're two Beaters down today, so we'll definitely give it a try. Each team gets two Chasers and a Beater." Draco draws his wand and flies to the centre of the field. Trailing his wand next to him as he bisects the pitch, with a Semper Flagrate he draws a fiery golden line across it that remains floating there in the air when he's done. "There's our midline then," he chuffs when he returns. "Any other propositions while you're at it?"
"We should probably rotate who plays on which team over the next few days so everyone gets used to playing with each other. It's hardly the point to train Millie and Sheldon to work together when they might be teamed with Vince or Gregory instead for the match."
Draco gives him an appreciative smile, "I think you'll make a good captain next year, Harper." It's politic to say so, but he also believes it's true. "Alright everyone, let's try something different..." He announces as he flies towards the others.
Harper's the most experienced of the sixth year players. He hadn't really doubted he'd be next year's captain - assuming the school's still open then that is - but this is the first time he's felt like maybe he earned that as opposed to being the default choice.
It's kind of nice.
For some reason, the Professor hasn't gone off to attend to his potion yet. No, he hadn't dashed off at the first, or even second opportunity. He's still there and Hermione works up the courage to at least try to make a recommendation.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but..." Statements like that are how Hermione proves she'd have made a frightful Slytherin. Somehow she thought that would help put the man at ease. She can feel him tense instantly, not that she can see an outward change, and trails off less certainly.
But he's still there and still listening and in for a Knut... She tries again. "Do you use the breakfast bar?" That honestly wasn't any of the questions he might have anticipated. He waits warily to see what she wants from him or is trying to imply. "Much? At all? It's just that no one ever does..." Ah. Something she wants, then.
He relaxes slightly, because he's quite capable of saying 'no', and vastly prefers doing so to being insulted. And so he admits he does not, with no additional hesitation, and relaxes a little more; there's nothing hurtful in her question, after all.
"What if you were to get rid of it?"
"Get rid of it?" This also isn't what he was expecting, and he's feeling a bit slow.
"You'd gain a couple of feet and could move the dining table and chairs further into the room, and win back more than the space lost to the book shelves and Kneazle ledges."
"Half-Kneazle ledges," he corrects a mite smugly and in a play for time. Nothing she's said is incorrect, merely unexpected, and he's trying to think it over, both for its own merits and what it might mean for them were he to take her suggestions seriously.
That correction wins him a warm smile, which softens him further. He hasn't Langlocked her or sent her to her room, and Hermione's feeling more confident.
Severus can't seem to detect more negatives than positives in humouring her, so he engages with her, "The dining table also isn't used much. Usually." He looks over her shoulder at the tower of gifts, and manages to refrain from mentioning them. Barely. "So I'm not persuaded it would gain us that much."
"Not in itself it might not, but if you got rid of the steps down from the reading nook into the lounge for most of the length of the room, you could move the couch back, and the lounge would be more generously proportioned than before..." and here she falters, but only briefly. "Before you had to make the changes."
She's suggesting a lot of alterations and it makes him... nervous for a spell, something that has him reflexively Occluding. Some. She's so caught up in her vision, she fortunately fails to notice. Much. She turns to face the lounge and nook and begins gesturing, "You could extend the nook by maybe the depth of a tread, and the lounge by the depth of the other two. Keep a normal width of stairs to the nook at the back along the shelves, and leave them at the front to the kitchen just as they are now, but they're hardly necessary around the entire perimeter. And the couch and end tables would easily slot into the space that makes."
"And have, what, over a foot and a half drop to the lounge?"
"There are such things as railings," she does her best to quirk her brow like he does. It almost makes him laugh. "And you do such beautiful work turning the wood." There it is again, a sincere but casual compliment for his work, directed at him with more warmth than he'd have thought possible. He thinks he may have been wrong before. He may actually need this. A little.
Just like the other couple of times she'd complimented him, something very pleasant, very believable laps across the bond.
It's... something else.
Almost without thinking, his Occlumency shields lower so he can feel more of it.
He takes one last look at the breakfast bar, now once again empty, experimentally waves his wand and causes the surface to sheer off and fold in on itself, wrapping the front of the island in the same beautiful wood as the rest of the kitchen cabinetry. A sharp V of his wand shrinks the bar stools with a Reducio to the height of mere inches before he Banishes them to the bookshelves as he had the other... surplus furniture on Sunday. A Wingardium Leviosa moves the dining table and chairs further into the room just as she'd suggested and so smoothly, not one of Pomona's flowers in that ridiculous arrangement loses a single petal. He walks purposefully to the lounge and eliminates the stretches of stairs as she proposed, pausing only to check to see if she agrees with the division of the space they've regained.
She looks simply rapt, which he decides to take for approval. Hardly a subtle creature, but then with their bond, it's doubtful she could be even if she tried. Another Wingardium Leviosa sends the couch back into the newly won space, two more and the end tables follow suit...
And she was absolutely right: this has indeed changed the proportions for the better. The access to his bedroom is improved, as is the flow in the lounge. He relaxes still more, she can feel it, and, well, she's Hermione. The ideas come somersaulting out, arse over tip.
"See? That gains you enough breathing room to turn the desk slightly on an angle, so it's facing the room more. And you'd still have enough space around it that it wouldn't be a squeeze to get past," she points out, selling him on this scheme of hers once and for all. He much prefers having the room comfortably in view. "And you'd have more natural light to work by. Well, perhaps not natural light, I suppose. Magically accumulated light," she smiles, still quite pleased with that charm.
"And once you're satisfied with the allotment of space to the lounge and your... study," she barely trips there, choosing to pretend his study wasn't actually her bedroom, "you could put in more of those elegantly crafted spindles of yours and a balustrade between the areas."
"Not something solid instead?" He asks as he reorientates his desk and chair as suggested. She doesn't seem to understand the reasoning behind the question, and he risks being more open, "It wouldn't... bother you to have someone moving at your back while you're sitting there trying to read?"
Honestly, she doubts she'd use the room were he also doing so, so the point seems rather moot. But they're getting on well just at the moment, and that strikes her as an inflammatory answer. "It's just the two of us," she replies instead with a shrug.
"Three, counting the half-Kneazle." That gets him another one of those smiles.
Predictably, it grows wider as she corrects him, "Four, if you count Sunny." She studies the room he's made, moves the area rug to centre it in the space and then steps into the lounge and takes a good look around. "I think you should leave it open. One of the issues was the room seemed much darker with the shelves out here. Putting in something solid would just steal more light." He waves his wand and the rug changes size beneath her until it's a better fit for the new space. It does so so smoothly, she can hardly feel it happening under her feet.
"Speaking of..." she begins, "I think covering the light stone made more difference than the loss of that bit of space for the shelves." He thinks it's more than a 'bit of space' but mostly because she's correct about the dark collection of books making the room seem smaller and because he's - generally - adverse to change. Which makes his participation in this effort all the more unusual... "Could you... If you were to put a magical window, something like the ceiling in the Great Hall - something neutral, but light - along the backs of the shelves, that would probably balance that some... But can you do that without causing the books to fade?"
She finally comes to a halt, nibbling that lip again nervously, ironically because she's worried about the welfare of his books (appealing trait that, but then of course she is), and not because she's trying to turn his life and rooms upside down once more. No, whatever for? Her priorities have ever been... unusual. Fortunately he finds humour in the situation.
"No, sunning wouldn't occur because there's no UV light from a magical window. They're effectively filtered and don't provide the full spectrum." Hermione isn't sure what she finds more appealing: the fact he knows the jargon for the fading, the reason for it, more about the window magic than she does, or the science of that. Those were two of the best sentences she's heard in a while. She stands there, trying not to stare in open admiration with a vaguely maniacal grin on her face, worrying Daphne and Davis were right and she's too easily read.
Severus assumes she's just pleased her idea will work.
He can't begin to explain any of that otherwise.
"If that weren't the case, we'd have no need of the greenhouses," he tries to help her reason it through for herself.
"I thought plants didn't require UV light for photosynthesis?"
"They don't, but that isn't the only concern. Ultraviolet radiation, in the right measure, is crucial to increasing the active substances in many plant species. For example, production of different phenolics, alkaloids, essential oils and terpenoids with known medicinal properties. Crucial in Potions." With a glance at their fruit bowl, he adds, "Or for phytochemical synthesis such as the resveratrol in your grapes."
Hermione may be beaming brighter than the sun now. She wonders fleetingly about her wavelength... Regardless what it is, he's definitely on it.
Severus decides he's better off not trying to understand... whatever that is. Summarily he shifts his focus back to the bookshelves.
"And failing that, had the magical windows let the UV through, there are always Preservation Charms," he adds as an afterthought, "which is what protects the spines." He waves a long fingered hand vaguely towards the books along the back wall of the room, the ones that had been there when she... moved in. She blushes minutely, because of course there are such things. She should have thought of it. People forever think Madam Pince's job consists of nothing more than shushing and stamping and shelving books and chasing students with enchanted ink pots...
Severus advances on the shelves to the left of the fireplace, all business, scans one section briefly and pulls out a book, studiously ignoring Crooks, who lurks only inches away. Crooks is of a similar inclination, and after a short perusal, ignores the wizard almost as thoroughly. Severus consults the table of contents - this tome hasn't a proper index, naturally, too easy - flips to the right chapter, skims through a few pages, takes a step back, lifts his wand and... There it is. A magical window appears along the back of the wall.
Which changes next to nothing because it's really quite dark outside by now.
Hermione almost deflates. She'd been so excited to see him just implementing her ideas, without dithering even, and now... this.
But Severus doesn't even pause, he applies his Brightness Charm at full, and between the stars and moon, it's enough to make a difference. To give them a hint of what it will be like tomorrow. And he has to admit, it will be good.
He turns to take in the room. It's both a more spacious arrangement and every bit as bright as it was. Maybe more so. "Good eye, Miss Granger." He ends the Brightness Charm on the window behind the shelves, it wouldn't do to forget it.
And of course the half-Kneazle hadn't stopped glaring at him the whole time it was on.
"It's not my eye, Sir. That would be pure imagination." She smirks as she says it, feeling just a touch audacious. The word may have recently taken on new meanings for her.
He takes the stairs to what now seems to have become his study, and on one of the shelves behind his desk is a small tin. He places it on his desktop and opens the lid, flipping through what appear to be small blocks and wafers, examining them closely before selecting one which he places on his desk while he stows the tin in its place. Hermione edges closer, stopping before the couch (much where she'd slept last night), when he places it on the floor in front of his desk. An Engorgio soon has it expanding until it's revealed to be a several inch thick sheet of Macassar ebony. More of a chunk, really. He does the maths in his head and informs her, "It will do for your balustrade, I believe. I'll see to it after dinner."
"You're leaving it like this then?" She can hardly contain her excitement. Severus thinks she's just short of vibrating with it.
"It's unquestionably an improvement," he replies simply, and she does that excessive smiling thing again.
"That's Macassar, isn't it?" She asks, indicating the wood.
He nods, a bit gratified she recognises it. "It's notoriously difficult to work with using Muggle methods. I think that's part of what makes it all the more pleasing to work magically."
"And do you usually start from a real block like that?"
"There's a difference to the grain otherwise. I find this more... appealing, it has a more natural look than when its form is manipulated, Transfigured somehow or outright Conjured."
Having experienced some frustration recently over her Transfigurations to her uniform - the cloth just doesn't seem to want to change its texture properly - Hermione can well imagine that. What she can't picture, having seen some of the things he can do, is that he's plagued by similar issues. And she'd stood and watched him Transfigure this wood on Sunday, and she'll be damned if she can see a difference.
So she says as much, well, just the last bit. And somewhat more politely. But still...
It's enough for Severus to lead her to the shelves around the fireplace. "These are Engorgioed, I made them taller to fit the space and accommodate the books from the shelves in... your room." She nods, and conscientiously ignoring the half-Kneazle shelves, he points to the grain instead, "you can see some difference here to the table top, say, which is in its original form." She can't, but takes his word for it, and says so. He shakes his head, and selects the next, more obvious example.
Still trying to ignore the ledges, although something odd is beginning to register, he crosses to the right of the fireplace where he'd extended the shelves to cover the space over the doorways. "This is a Transfigured piece. It was magically worked initially, of course, but with those techniques there's no visual difference to Muggle methods in the end results. There are none, in fact, other than what you're able to achieve and the time required, as you might imagine. But then I applied a Transfiguration, here, above the lintel." She had watched him do it, she knows he did, but she's still having great difficulty finding the supposed flaws.
"If you look here," he points to a few spots in succession that she really can't see any issue with, "you'll see how the grain is simply... wrong."
He looks at her, expecting her to agree, but she just shakes her head.
"And Conjured wood... Parts of your nightstand, for example. It just doesn't compare." Now it's his turn to shake his head. Ruefully, she thinks.
"How does that differ?" She asks, turning on her heel and going into her room for a closer look. The thing was simply gorgeous, and she has no idea what he's on about.
He follows her, stopping at the door.
She chuckles, hopping up onto the bed and smiling at him, "I don't bite." He most definitely doesn't move. "And it's hardly improper," she adds, sitting up straight and endeavouring to look demure, but he still isn't budging. And now she laughs, "How did you get me to bed last night?" Because she really is tempting fate, and very much hopes the answer isn't...
"I've been capable of a Mobilicorpus, Miss Granger, for more years than you've lived," he equivocates truthfully with nary a hint of guilt.
She blushes, many of her worst fears corroborated, of course he is, and she wonders if she'd just dreamt of him carrying her. (And if so, she may have it worse than she thought.) Still, she refuses to be put off and objects again, "Well I can't tell what you're pointing at from there, and for an old married couple such as ourselves, I think we can agree it wouldn't be... unseemly." The way her thumb automatically fingers the ring as she says it discomposes him vaguely. When he realises he's doing the same thing, it only throws him further.
"Unless you're some kind of vampire waiting for an invitation...." she drawls, almost languidly, clearly taking the mickey now.
He snorts, but finally enters; it's presumably less painful than sitting out her escalations. "The only vampire I know who waits for invitations is Sanguini." He wordlessly takes in the odd shrine she seems to have erected of what he now realises is a silvered candleholder that looks suspiciously like veg, her wedding bouquet and the chocolate frog he'd impounded for her. Well... had Sunny impound. Much the same thing. Again he tries to show her how the grain differs, this time with a little more success, but then it had been the most extreme deviation from the original.
The structure was Transfigured from plastic, quite the departure, the door to the ginger beast's carrier, however, was very clearly Conjured. Even she must recognise this...
Having gotten her to see the differences there, he tries again on her bed, a heavily Transfigured piece of the ebony. Knowing what to look for, under his instruction she's now able to spot some oddities that he assures her are due to the magical reworking.
"I couldn't tell if you hadn't shown me," she finally acknowledges.
"Well, I did put some effort into working with the grain. And most people can't read wood." She can hear what he thinks about them in his tone and pretends she wouldn't be counted amongst their number.
"Some effort? On the fly like that?" She sounds surprised, not the least because she'd watched him do that, too.
"Did you think it was easy?" He's frankly a little offended and she can feel him withdrawing.
"No, not at all," she hastens to reassure him, quite candidly. "It's just that you weren't in great shape when you did it and you made it all seem so... effortless."
Mollified, rather, he replies, "Yes, well, my magic had recovered, and that was what counted when doing so."
"I meant it, it's a beautiful room full of lovely work. Thank you very much for making it for me." She runs her hand almost affectionately over the surface of her nightstand, in something that looks suspiciously like a caress, and he finds himself having difficulty swallowing.
Mission accomplished, lesson in wood, wood grain imparted, he's once again in the process of becoming uncomfortable with the fact that he's standing in her bedroom. As long as he'd been distracted it hadn't been an issue, now, all of a sudden, it seems to be.
Hermione can feel that of course, and casts about for something else to say, other things she'd been meaning to ask him... Something to keep him from bolting, because she can't quite tell if that urge is more of the 'regrets what he'd done last night' variety, or proof he couldn't have done it willingly in the first place. So clearly he needs to not flee, if only for her peace of mind.
"That was very thoughtful of you to have Daphne and Davis come get me this morning," she rushes to tell him, arresting his move to depart.
Somehow it doesn't surprise him that she's on a first name basis with Miss Greengrass. "I'm glad you recognised that's what they were sent for."
She immediately resolves not to tell him how long it took for her to work that out. "Yeah... That might have taken me a moment to figure out." The look on her face as she hears herself say it... She nearly makes him laugh.
"Hadn't planned on revealing that, I take it?" He doesn't even bother trying not to smirk.
She just wrinkles her nose, which would seem to substantiate that.
"I was wondering, though... How do I know who's at the door? I couldn't tell until I opened it..."
He blanches, because that is a horrible idea. They have a Protection Vow in place here, and she just throws the door open to the first person who comes along and knocks? Well, second, technically, but that's not the point. He hadn't even been close by had there been a problem. No, that won't do at all.
He says as much.
"Well what was I supposed to do instead? I can't hide out here avoiding everyone, can I?"
Personally, he can't help thinking yes, she bloody well can. The only people who can see the door are Slytherins and some of staff. Why on earth would she need to answer it? Unless some dimwitted fool sends people calling for her, that is... Bygones. But he knows that's not a practical solution, and he's clever enough to guess its proposal wouldn't go over well either. No, he's known the witch long enough for that.
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "There's another charm I'll need to teach you for that..." He's interrupted by his Tempus. The potion calls. He sighs again, but his nose escapes unpinched this time. "I apologise, Miss Granger, but it will have to keep." He runs some calculations through his head for the third potion he's identifying and offers, "We could meet later if it suits. A quarter past nine, perhaps?" She nods, and he's already half out her door. "I should be in the laboratory. Knock, and I'll come teach you the charm then." And just like that, he's gone.
The room seems empty without him.
As if sensing it, Crooks strolls into their room and hops up on the bed with an elegant leap. Before she knows it, he's made himself comfortable on her lap. "Aren't you the smartest boy ever?" She asks, hugging him to her tightly.
He certainly thinks so. Self-sacrificing, too, as he was willing to forgo the marvellous warming blanket for this. He hopes his witch knows enough to appreciate it.
It hadn't taken him long to tame her. He imagines he'll have their wizard tamed in half the time if their adventures with interior decorating are anything to go by. Although the man seems less inclined to scratch...
A division of labour may be called for.
With a bit of squirming, Crooks manoeuvres his head under Hermione's hand, and she absently begins to scratch his ears. He 'mrawrs' up a storm until she finally concentrates on what she's doing, humans, and some first rate scratching ensues. Crooks purrs contentedly in reply.
Yes. Life really is rather good.
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Date: 2019-04-21 09:25 pm (UTC)Draco graciously listening to Harper - smart move. When their backs are up against the wall, Slytherins know when to make concessions. And it might just work out in Draco's favor in the long run. Maybe he won't end up on the couch with fairy wings...
Massacar - such an odd and unfamiliar word, I had to look it up when I saw that Draco uses it in his hair. So of course I noticed it when Severus pulled some out to use for the new balustrade. Interesting... I have no idea what it all means, but I am intrigued!
Also loved that Severus answers Hermione's question by saying he's been capable of a mobilicorpus for more years than she's been alive... Very effin' sneaky, Sev! Hahaha - oh they are going to have so much to laugh about some day. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2019-04-23 01:57 am (UTC)Draco isn’t stupid, and he’s been fairly well trained. As long as Bellatrix and You-Know-Who don’t run him into the ground, he’s capable of a lot. And after seeing what happened to Vince, he definitely won’t be sleeping all exposed in the common room. (Which naturally isn’t to say he couldn’t end up glued to his own bed with the fairy wings... 😉) (the winged Daphne pic has now been added to chapter 100, btw 😘)
In RL I like a silly game in which you try to see how many different meanings of the same word you can use in a certain space of time. (When the dog barked, she startled, barking her shin on the bark of the tree as she stumbled.) Macassar (also Makassar) is an absolutely gorgeous ebony, and also the name of a hair product (oil) that’s basically like brylcreem. They’re related by geography, at least theoretically, but otherwise not. (And the antimacassar is the doily that people used to drape over the backs of chairs to protect the upholstery from the hair oil. In this story, that’s the kind of thing that Poppy turns into blouses for Hermione. 😉)
If they ever come clean about all their little secrets, they can laugh forever.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-02-19 03:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-03-01 03:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-09-27 07:02 am (UTC)