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beyondwandpoint) wrote2020-03-11 06:07 pm
beyondwandpoint) wrote2020-03-11 06:07 pm
Entry tags:
- astoria greengrass,
- celestina warbeck,
- contemplatieve,
- corridors,
- crookshanks,
- daphne greengrass,
- dean thomas,
- draco malfoy,
- draught of peace,
- ella wilkins,
- entrance hall,
- fanfic,
- fay dunbar,
- georgina smith,
- ginny weasley,
- harper hutchinson,
- harry potter,
- hermione granger,
- hermione granger / severus snape,
- jack sloper,
- kiera kilkenny devi,
- lavender brown,
- lucius malfoy,
- michael corner,
- millicent bulstrode,
- molly weasley,
- morag macdougal,
- neville longbottom,
- padma patil,
- pansy parkinson,
- parvati patil,
- portrait swaine swoopstikes,
- potterverse,
- ron weasley,
- salome perks smith,
- seamus finnigan,
- severus snape,
- slytherin boys' dorms,
- slytherin dungeons,
- slytherins being slytherins,
- snamione,
- snapes' chambers,
- ss/hg,
- terry boot,
- the bloody baron,
- theo nott,
- tomasina touchstone,
- vincent crabbe,
- zacharias smith
“beyond wandpoint” 120 by gingerbred
“11 13d Thurs - Down”
Hermione, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Harper Hutchinson, Astoria Greengrass, Tomasina Touchstone, Gryffindors: Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Fay Dunbar, Georgina Smith, Ginny Weasley, Ravenclaws: Padma Patil, Morag MacDougal, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Hufflepuffs: Salome Perks Smith, Zacharias Smith, Others: the Bloody Baron, Portrait Swaine Swoopstikes
Mentioned briefly: Severus, Slytherins: Theo Nott, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Ella Wilkins, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Parvati Patil, Jack Sloper, Kiera Kilkenny Devi, Others: Crookshanks, Lucius Malfoy, Molly Weasley, Celestina Warbeck
Originally Published: 2020-03-11 on LJ / DW
Chapter: 120
THE LAST CHAPTER WAS A TWO-PARTER. DID YOU READ BOTH PARTS?
Characters:
Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot)
Slytherins: Draco Malfoy 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker, Swot), Daphne Greengrass 7S (Sparkly! Fwoopers!), Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser, flash Robe Model), Astoria 'Tori' Greengrass 5S, Tomasina Touchstone 5S (Prefect, Potions savvy heiress)
Gryffindors: Neville Longbottom 7G (errant Herbal Knight), Lavender 'Lav' Brown 7G (blonde!), Fay Dunbar 7G (Reserve Chaser), Georgina Smith 7G ('Fay's ginger friend'), Ginny Weasley 6G (Chaser)
Ravenclaws: Padma Patil 7R (Head Girl), Morag MacDougal 7R (lippy Muggle-born with that lippy), Michael Corner 7R (one of Ginny's Exes), Terry Boot 7R
Hufflepuffs: Salome Smith 7H (née Perks, bonded to Zacharias Smith 6H), Zacharias Smith 6H (bonded to Salome Smith 7H, née Perks; Potions Dealer)
Others: The Bloody Baron (Slytherin House Ghost), Portrait Swaine Swoopstikes (past HoS, timeless Potions Master, Professor and Entomologist)
Mentioned briefly: Severus (HoS, Potions), Slytherins: Theo Nott 7S (Swottiest, Nervous Wreck), Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater, Winged ex-Couch still-Potato), Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater, yes, that.), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Gryffindors: Harry Potter 7G (Team Captain, Seeker, the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Annoy-Severus), Ron Weasley 7G (Prefect, Keeper (only in the Quidditch sense), the Boy-Who-Exists-to-Annoy-Hermione), Seamus Finnigan 7G (fiery Reserve Beater), Dean Thomas 7G (mannered Chaser), Parvati 'Vati' Patil 7G, Jack Sloper 6G (Reserve Beater), Kiera Kilkenny Devi 6G (bonded to Dhanesh 6G, who sadly no longer has his tail)
Others: Crookshanks 'Crooks' (Hermione's half-Kneazle), Lucius Malfoy (words fail to describe him), Molly Weasley (words fail to describe her, too), Celestina Warbeck (Warbler)
Previously:
Sixth year, an incautious Harry tries an unfamiliar Spell on Malfoy and nearly kills him. By a stroke of good fortune, Severus is close by and able to save the young Slytherin. (Canon - HBP)
Lav may have told some porkies about why Hermione was missing from their room Friday night. (Harry mentions it to Hermione in (017 LJ / DW). She's predictably thrilled.) And then pushing things a little further yet, eh, Monday afternoon a still jealous Lavender has the inspiration to tell Ginny about Professor Trelawney's latest Prophecy, in the hope it will lead his sister to help agitate to keep Ron and Hermione from becoming an item. Shortly thereafter, obviously, when the bondings are announced, Lav realises that's no longer much of a threat, but at the time it had seemed a simply grand idea. (048 LJ / DW)
Albus explains Hermione's absence from Gryffindor Friday night with a story about an incident in the library that soon has Minerva upbraiding Irma for her lack of oversight, and Irma in turn banning Hermione from the Restricted Section for her lies. It also firmly cements Hermione's reputation as an accident-prone swot, although that at least might be fair.
Not precisely adjusting well to their new situation, Ron gets into a fight with Seamus Monday evening, hexes fly, and soon the both of them and Dean land in the Infirmary. (056 LJ / DW) Unsurprisingly, this does not endear Ron to his roommates.
Tuesday Severus discovers a bunch of Ravenclaws and Ernie Macmillan duelling outside his classroom with the Slytherins, apparently in defence of his bondmate's honour. Words fail. Somewhat naturally, the first to come to mind prove to be related to point deductions. That cheers him a little. (071 LJ / DW)
In a moment of unaccustomed insight, Harry and Ginny realise that Snape probably hadn't appreciated Mrs. Weasley's Howler Tuesday morning. (No one had.) The conclusion, while not much of an accomplishment - it had been dead simple - is fortunately also erroneous. Fair enough, they remain unaware that Severus was thankfully unconscious at the time of the Howling, or they'd be very right about his response. Further considering how Ron was taking the news of 'Mione's bonding in general... Harry and Ginny decide they need to arrange to get some Peace for the boy. Ginny asks her ex-boyfriend Michael Corner for help. (104 LJ / DW)
Wednesday evening, Ron takes an near unavoidable tumble down a flight of stairs. (108 LJ / DW) That minor mishap lands him in Poppy's tender care, but he isn't looking forward to another plate of Polly's porridge. The Gryffindor Quidditch Team finds itself condemned to early morning practices thanks to Ron's exceedingly busy schedule of detentions. Although they had come to accept it, they understandably find it less palatable when he isn't there to join them. Almost as unpalatable as the Infirmary's gruel, in fact. (117 LJ / DW)
Seventh year Reserve Chaser Fay Dunbar skips her post practice shower in favour of charms - she's a witch, isn't she? - and heads to breakfast, eager to get there before the rest of the team. With a bit of luck, she could put some distance between them at the table... She could still hear Seamus' litany of complaints from the tent as she left, Jack Sloper perfectly happy to sing the refrain, even Dean sounded fairly put out and Harry seemed simply beleaguered. It wasn't as if he'd had any more sleep than the rest of them.
There'd been a moment of concern that morning when Ron hadn't been in his bed, Harry had pored over some kind of map of the castle, and had soon been able to tell them Ron was in the Infirmary. Again. A Floo call confirmed it wasn't serious, not that Pomfrey had seemed pleased at the disturbance - but McGonagall wasn't likely to do anything about that fact, so it seemed wise, or at least not unwise - and they'd left a note for Neville to please bring Ron's books to breakfast. Could scarcely be seen as an ask too far, and it was a way for him to support the team, now wasn't it? Anyway, he'd hardly been in a position to say 'no' all warm and asleep in his bed as he was. Seemed fair enough.
The pity of course was, with no notice, they'd had no other choice but to go through with the pre-dawn practice. Harry had given their afternoon slot to the Ravenclaws, after all.
Fay slides into her seat at the Gryffindor table next to Georgina, gratefully taking her texts from her roommate. (That was her contribution to the effort.) Neville, observing the hand off, asks, "Fay, would you mind taking Ron's books to Transfiguration?" pointing at the daunting stack beside him. Admittedly it was doubled, two student's worth of books, but still. That's precisely the amount she'd be carrying, now isn't it?
"Harry will be along shortly," she answers. "You can give them to him." And then she stops and thinks about it, especially as Neville instantly looks nervous he might somehow be stuck with the things, and more kindly adds, "Just do yourself a favour and don't ask Seamus to take them." Neville looks even more concerned, but then he's lived with the boys for over six years, and he can pretty much picture, now that she mentioned it, why that wouldn't be the greatest of ideas.
"Yeah, cheers."
"Dean might do in a pinch, though," Fay adds helpfully, although the more cynical might wonder, if she truly wished to be helpful, why she wouldn't just take the books herself.
"How was practice?" Georgina asks, already fearing the worst from Fay's tone.
"Nightmare," the Chaser replies. The others have a bit of an idea what that might mean, things in the House have been sort of barmy all week.
"I'm telling you, they should be using winged horses. Now thestrals could be interesting..." the ginger rekindles their favourite debate. By tacit agreement, they've decided to ignore Hermione's suggestion that Granians were somehow the answer. Certainly not until she demonstrated a firm grasp of Care of Magical Creatures, anyway, to say nothing of Quidditch.
"We'd have been up even earlier getting them saddled," Fay objects. "They're far too bony to even think about riding bareback." Neville just bites his tongue, he knows far more about that topic than he'd rather, until Lav asks why he has Ron's books in the first place. He explains the whole Infirmary situation, not having all that much interest in the revisitation of the 'application of flying horses in Quidditch' discussion anyway.
"But they have the clear advantage over some other horses," Georgina counters, Granians no doubt implied, "of not needing their coats brushed."
"Just as well, it's not like I could see them," Fay chuckles. They continue in that fashion for a few moments, and she's about to plate up a storm, when Lav succeeds in getting her attention.
Lavender has had some time to think about their situation, holistically speaking, and has come to regret her... actions ('interference' would be overstating it, wouldn't it?) Monday afternoon. There's no way of knowing, of course, how much of a difference her... agitation - she can accept that, 'agitation' is fine, or, well, maybe it isn't, that was the whole point, but as words go, she's alright with that. Seamus' suggestion to call it 'shit-stirring' is clearly going too far, but they've been friends forever, and he's miles from being a Shrinking Violet with much of anyone, let alone his close friends. If he has an opinion, you're apt to know it. And he seemed to think 'shit-stirring' applied.
It's funny, of course, that she fails, completely, to think about the problems caused by the rumours she'd spread in advance of that, when Hermione hadn't returned to their room all weekend. (And before she realised she was in the Infirmary, obviously - leave it to Hermione to have an accident in the library...) Or that Lav had been happy enough to contribute to the theories for the witch's bonding after it had been announced at dinner Monday.
Anyroad, the point was it was frightfully hard to say - especially in hindsight, because that's simply not how Divination works - just how much of a difference her whole relaying of Professor Trelawney's prophecy about 'ginger lion's heartbreak' had made. The facts of the matter, however, and those aren't in dispute, are that Hermione had bonded Snape (Snape!) and moved out of the House, has hardly been seen since, at least outside of classes, and Won-won has been in something of a state in the aftermath, to say nothing of all the detentions he was accumulating. Seamus had had more colourful words for that, too, but then early morning practices and the fact he'd been on the receiving end of a Puking Pastille and some hexes thanks to Ron Monday night... Well, he might be biased. And he'd never really thought Ron treated her well enough anyway. (Secretly she's inclined to agree.)
But! Won-won has had some time to grow since that most unfortunate cheating incident, and Hermione is clearly permanently on the outs now. There's really no way back from a bonding, well, besides death obviously, but she can't picture Ron ever getting over the whole 'married to Snape' thing. Nimue's knickers, she was having problems coming to grips with it, and it's not as though she were invested... And, sadly, she knows a thing or two about heartbreak, and it's possible - conceivable, really - that she could help him through this rough patch. And beyond. Without appearing to have any ulterior motives... So, and this is just a spontaneous idea really, when Neville mentions poor Ronniekins is in the Infirmary, again, well... She knows how much he likes his brekkie, and how bad the Infirmary food is, and she thought she might just bring him a bap. Erm, or two. In which case it was more like three...
She's clearly been spending too much time with Seamus...
She'd wanted to pop by the library anyway - word on the castle grapevine was someone had used a new hair colouration charm on Crabbe yesterday, and she'd wanted to look into it - and this was practically en route, wasn't it? Fine, not really, but what's a few corridors, more or less, between friends?
She asks Parvati if she'd like to come along and is promptly refused. Vati has never forgiven Ron for his abysmal treatment of Lav. (Obviously that's completely failing to recognise just how much 'Won-won' and Lav had annoyed the stuffing out of Vati when things were going smoothly. Her friend had almost completely forgotten she existed, and when Lav did have time for her, there was suddenly only the one topic... Apparently Vati finds it more enjoyable to talk about 'boys' in the aggregate and decidedly non-specific, she simply hadn't realised how much so in advance. )
Georgina, not that she was asked, volunteers that she was hoping to get a good breakfast in, "It's the most important meal of the day." Lav thinks that sounds like she's parroting something; at any rate she's never seen that claim proven. And then still hoping for a bit of company, she asks the brunette Chaser sitting beside the ginger, "Fay? Would you like to come?"
"Where to?"
Slightly annoyed the girl hasn't been paying attention - which is a little unfair, as she'd been immersed in a conversation of her own - Lav explains that she's about to go to the Infirmary to visit Ron. She waves the baps and that's sort of self-explanatory, really. They've all had the displeasure of that rotten gruel at some point or another.
Ginny comes storming in and plunks herself heavily down on the bench, and just looking at her, Fay can tell she's somehow even pissier than before, which is something of an accomplishment. Seamus and Jack will no doubt join them soon enough, no way that doesn't get worse. Fay's sort of tired of listening to their whinging, and there's little chance of it stopping, and so she decides, yes, she rather wants to be clear of them all. She's had enough, of 'it' and them.
The final straw, were she undecided, comes when Kiera innocently (and somewhat foolishly) asks Ginny something about one of their classes today, and the ginger nearly takes her head off at the neck. No, Fay's definitely over it. And why not take Ron some food? He's her teammate after all, and frankly she rather likes the Keeper. Not as much as Lav, clearly - but then who does? - but sufficiently to rise with the blonde, grab her books and some baps of her own and ask Georgina, "Are you sure you won't come with?" She may have looked significantly at Ginny as she did so. Subtlety isn't necessarily her strength.
Her friend shakes her head once more and with a final, "Alright then. Suit yourself. I'll see you in CMC," Fay follows Lav from the Great Hall.
Sixth year Hufflepuff Zacharias Smith gives his new bride a kiss and sends her on ahead to their table. "I'll be with you soon, I just need to see to some business."
"I'll be waiting," Salome nibbles on his earlobe in return and goes to sit with the others, almost exactly between the sixth and seventh years. It was easier that way, the practical division of his and her friends. Well, classmates.
Zacharias walks casually over to the Ravenclaw table where Michael Corner is sitting with a couple other seventh years, apparently complaining rather vocally about his ex. Zacharias can certainly understand that. What he hadn't been able to understand is how an otherwise rather sensible sort of fellow had been willing to put up with that witch in the first place. He can't recall when he last met such an entitled wench.
He taps the dark haired boy on the shoulder, "Sorry to interrupt..."
"All good, mate," Terry Boot replies, "I was sort of sorry I'd asked..." Morag MacDougal slaps him playfully on the arm for the bit of cheek.
"Do you have some?" Corner asks him hopefully, still wanting to get Ginny her Draught of Peace.
"Not yet, but I'm hoping to get some soon," he replies, which is true enough. If Corner takes that to mean he's waiting on an owl, all the better. There's no sign of Crabbe yet, so this could be a problem.
"I need it before second period, or it won't do me any good. But I don't fancy the chances of finding you between classes." Zacharias nods, he can see the issue. Corner had managed to get himself into quite a spot of trouble with Snape on Tuesday, and unless Zacharias is very much mistaken, today is the seventh years' double N.E.W.T. Potions class. "Think you'll have it before breakfast is over?"
"Like I said, I hope to. How about I come find you either way to let you know. But if I have to get... creative to get it by then, it'll cost extra."
Corner gives him a funny smile and answers, "That won't be a problem. It costs what it costs." Boot snorts in laughter and MacDougal bats his arm once more. "You've always been fair," Corner tries to explain. "I trust you'll be fair now, too."
Ravenclaws are an odd flock.
"Right... I'll come find you again in a bit," and with a puzzled shake of his head that only serves to highlight the parallel scars over his left ear through his short blond hair, he returns to his table and brand new bondmate.
"Look at you, Mr. Deep Galleons Pouch. Money's no object?" Terry teases.
"I told her yesterday it might cost if it were a rush order. It's not like she gave me a lot of notice. And she said Potter was paying for it, so yeah."
"And the fact he dated her has nothing whatsoever to do with your cavalier attitude towards the price?" Terry eyes him appraisingly and gets himself another little cuff from Morag. He hooks an arm around her pulling her arms close to her body to keep her from doing it again and she laughs, lifting her palms in surrender. He gives her a fond nudge with his head as he lets her go.
Michael shrugs in reply to Terry's question. "Might do. But anyway, he's minted."
"Well, then why wouldn't you just add a couple Galleons to the price either way?" Padma tends to be practical about things, as long as it's nothing to do with Divinations. Her Housemates blame her twin's influence for that latter.
"That wouldn't be honest." Michael almost sounds affronted. "I'm not in it for a profit. And if I really wanted to throw a spanner in the works, I'd've told him who it's for."
"That's fair," Terry agrees with a nod.
"So do you think she needs it for Potter or Weasley?" Morag asks, looking over her shoulder at the Gryffindor table. No sign of either boy just yet.
"Even odds, I imagine," Michael responds.
"I'm betting Weasley. There's no way he makes it through Potions without it," Terry sounds sure.
"She should have gotten some for both," Morag counters. She's probably right.
"Well this should be interesting. Care to make a wager on those 'even odds' of yours?" Terry asks his friend, and the little nest of Ravenclaws finds itself rather looking forward to class today. Of course, if Ron gets his Peace, they're likely to find it disappointing.
Hermione had rushed to her room, Summoned her cardigan and robe (both of which she hastily threw on), grabbed her school supplies and dashed from the flat just as soon as the Professor's door closed behind him. Crooks hadn't had time to do more than blink at the flurry of motion around him, but then he's used to such things and in short had simply closed his eyes once more.
Molly Weasley had been fond of telling the story of how Celestina Warbeck had once changed outfits no less than fifty times in a single stage performance. Mrs. Weasley had seemed seriously impressed. Hermione always thought it sounded like a bother, even with the aid of magic, and rushing around changing for the second time in fifteen minutes? Despite using magic? Has confirmed her suspicions: definitely a hassle. And then she's forced to recall it may have been her idea to make their chambers a uniform-free place. Hmm. Well, there had been perfectly good reasons for it, she's sure. It was just a pity they couldn't extend that to the entire school while they were about it.
It was also, now that she's thinking about it, something of a pity that Mrs. Weasley had sent that offensive Howler to the Professor or had had disparaging things to say about Hermione's parents to boot. It means she isn't even free to recollect a perfectly innocent story the woman told without a twinge of bitterness. It truly is a shame it had come to that. It wasn't, however, the first time they'd been on the outs. Hermione can recall an extremely frosty reception after Skeeter's articles about her during the Tri-Wiz. Well.
In retrospect, Hermione's exit from their quarters wasn't well managed, as she now finds herself trying to tuck her blouse into her skirt one handedly, hmm, and her tie remains stowed - most improperly - in her robe's pocket instead of adorning her neck. Given the way things have been going with the other Gryffindors lately, she has half a mind to take House points for her terribly sad display. Tsk. She's through the perception barrier before she's even Finited the Transfiguration to her uniform's skirt - it was surprising how much better it had looked in black.
It wouldn't have mattered, probably, the wards had told her the coast was clear, and there is a noticeable absence of portraits in the immediate vicinity of their chambers, except before she can even shut the door behind her she hears a raspy, "Madam!" That, presumably, is how the Baron sounds when he's all agog, a state apparently best defined by his fading lighter and then reappearing darker, shifting in opacity in and out of view. Laughter, she supposes, would not be the best response. "What are you wearing?!"
The not laughing thing proves more difficult than she'd have expected. "Baron! Good Morning!" She greets him enthusiastically. It's warm and heartfelt, despite his admonishment - when he's right, he's right - and it throws him sufficiently he says no more on the topic. A moment later the skirt is the regulation grey anyhow.
The buttons of her blouse are a little more difficult to manage - she wonders if the Professor mightn't know a charm for that as well - but they don't hold her up for long. She tugs her tie on over her head, thankful for having come to accept the boys' solution of never having unknotted it. Presumably it isn't at all the proper way to store the things, but there are undoubtably Charms for that to increase its longevity in the face of poor handling. She may have to learn them. Surely it will survive the year... She's able to pull it into shape with just the single free hand as she starts her way to the library. The Baron falls in immediately beside her.
"How are you?" She asks, and he floats there, blinking.
Hmm. Apparently this is small talk. He vaguely remembers the concept. He's observed people doing this before. He racks his brains - presently transparent, certainly, but he is equally sure they are there - and after a moment's consideration can still find only the one reply, "Still dead."
Hermione gives up on trying not to laugh. It's pleasant - for both of them, really - not, that the Baron is accustomed to this response. "It suits you," she smiles when she's able to speak again. Apparently they're allowed to be cheeky. "Sleep well?" She enquires, still grinning.
"A millennium ago, delightfully." Yes, she likes this. He's less certain about it, but he also can't seem to recall when someone last appeared to enjoy his company, and he finds himself... thawing. It might help, he supposes, that she seems pitiably incapable of dissembling. Perhaps he'll yet be able to teach her, yes... But in the meantime, he finds himself taking her display for... sincere.
How unusual.
"Last night, not a wink." He adds, testing the waters.
"I imagine with all the noise the chains make, it would be nearly impossible."
"Unquestionably that is the issue." One of his eyebrows raises and she's struck by the resemblance to a certain bondmate. Both she and the ghost are perfectly aware his chains haven't so much as clinked in her presence this morning or really most of the rest of the week. She hadn't anticipated it, but he can be surprisingly kind. He's definitely growing on her.
She begins chatting about some thing or another she's hoping to find in the library, the sad state of affairs with Madam Pince and her ban from the Restricted Section. He, the very model of a mannered gentleman - something he's pleased to have picked up several centuries ago - refrains from mentioning that Confunding the woman the other night won't have helped. On the other hand, as the librarian no doubt doesn't recall the incident, perhaps it won't have precisely hurt matters either.
Hmm.
Yes.
Acceptable.
He considers saying so until it occurs to him he'd be forced to mention the Confunding he'd already decided not to.
Conversation is apparently fraught with difficulties.
No wonder he's avoided it so long. Presumably self-isolation had been one of his better decisions. He must have made a few over the years. They can't all be bad.
So it's even odder that he seems to be... enjoying - is that the word? It could be. Not disliking, at any rate. 'Not disliking' her companionship.
Yes. That's accurate. He's rather pleased with himself for that.
Possibly, he thinks as he wafts along beside the woman, it might make a difference that she's an attractive witch, and then he has to wonder that he noticed. On consideration, someone probably mentioned it in his presence. That'll have been it. But it's... pleasant, really, taking a float about the castle, a pretty woman nearly on his arm.
Sir Nicholas would fade with envy.
Or become solid. He probably shouldn't discount that option entirely.
They're deep in a fairly one-sided conversation when they reach the Entrance Hall.
"Oh." It's more startled than anything else, and then Lavender follows with an uncertain, "Hey, Hermione," that draws the witch's attention. The Prefect stops, surprise to see Lav and Fay leaving the Great Hall so early. Her timing hadn't been half bad really, not that it was deliberate, but still, most tended to be in the Hall already and it was far too early for anyone to be finished. And where were they going to go anyway? The library? She and the Baron hadn't encountered a single person on their way up from the dungeons, and there were none but a very few stragglers entering the Hall here.
Recalling that she'd left Lav standing there a bit awkwardly in the corridor last night after Astronomy, Hermione comes to a stop, waiting for them to draw closer, and then it finally dawns on her that she hadn't taken her Draught of Peace in her hurry to leave chambers before the Professor reappeared. Well it probably won't help matters to do so now in front of Lav. It would only be a matter of hours before the whole castle knew about it, and that would rather defeat the purpose, or at least half of the purpose. Hmm. Right. Well how hard can it be to take a moment and chat casually with her roommates? It's not like they haven't spoken thousands of times before...
The Baron and Severus would both have strong opinions to offer on the subject of the difficulties of small talk, but some things Hermione needs to discover for herself.
"Hi, Lav. Fay," Hermione replies, pleased with how well that's going, albeit the 'Fay' wasn't quite as warm as she hasn't forgotten last night's impatient display of toe tapping. In part because she'd just entertained disparaging thoughts about Fay's rudeness and wishes to redress her own in running off on Lav, and in part because she seems to feel a need to prove to any and everyone just how okay she is with her situation (not that too many people seem to be asking if she is, sadly), Hermione continues, "Where are you two off to?"
And that's right about when things go wrong.
Unlike Lav, Fay has no real reason to feel guilty about her treatment of Hermione up till now. On the contrary, Fay's week hasn't been great (not that it holds a candle to Hermione's, but then it's not a competition, nor is she remotely in the know, and even if she were, most likely wouldn't particularly care), and the next week and a half are shaping up to be just as bad from the look of things. And as near as Fay can make out, beyond Ron's lack of ability to deal better with the situation, which she kind of understands, the primary cause of all that disagreeableness is Hermione running off and bonding one of their teachers. And not just any teacher at that, no, she'd chosen the absolute worst of the lot, and bonded Snape. Add to that the fact Fay likes Ron, and he's a teammate, and she's frankly never particularly liked Hermione, an often snooty and openly condescending witch who had made any shot at Prefect-hood all but impossible and the provocation the Bloody Baron represents just floating there all Slytheriny... This probably isn't going to go well.
"We're taking Ron some food..." Lavender begins.
"Like good friends do," Fay continues with a slight smile that doesn't come close to reaching her eyes, "when someone is stuck in the Infirmary." And that's sort of rubbish, isn't it, because they don't always, as Hermione perfectly well knows, and Ron isn't likely to be there much longer anyway, and she hadn't even planned on doing so until Lav suggested it, but the look on Hermione's face is... gratifying. Fay feels like she's just shot the Quaffle through the goal. So she continues, her tone thick with disappointment, "I'm just surprised you didn't think to do it."
Hermione blinks. And then begins seeing red. For one thing, this is the first she's hearing of it. How the hell was she supposed to know he was in the Infirmary? (To be perfectly fair, Lav had only just learnt of it, and she was still living in the Tower.) "Is he alright?" Hermione asks, concern thankfully managing to get the better of her anger, although conceivably only just.
Well, he's probably not alright if he's in the Infirmary, she chastises herself for that morsel of stupidity. She immediately regrets giving them the opening; fortunately, neither of the other girls takes it.
"He fell down a flight of stairs and broke his arm last night. He should be in Transfiguration, though..." Lav relays what Neville had told her. Ron's near total recovery even as they speak was taken as granted, or Neville wouldn't have had to lug his books along after all... That was rather the point.
And just like that, with the initial concern addressed, Hermione's anger returns, furious retorts hot on her tongue. She'd been in the Infirmary all weekend and the little rotter hadn't stopped by once, and yet somehow people thought less of her for not visiting him? She's tired of the double standard. So sick of it. Fine, she hadn't been especially injured last weekend, but it's not like he knew that. Or they know that, for that matter. (She still refuses to acknowledge that she had indeed been through an ordeal...)
Briefly, she considers giving the 'I would have gone but had Quidditch practice' excuse, but assumes the irony and its significance would be lost on them. A flight of stairs? This is the boy who had callously cheered the thought of sending Malfoy... Right, Malfoy. Hmm. She sighs inwardly. Still. Ron thought he'd been responsible for Malfoy falling seven stories and had all but revelled in that knowledge, and here she's supposed to pity him for a broken arm? An apparently mended broken arm? That's what Episkeys were for! (Probably not in the case of spiral fractures, but then her medical experience is limited more or less to the Discerno, so that's a perfectly natural oversight.) Her hair begins crackling. Lav takes the hint and backs up slightly, Fay is more confrontational, she has to be to play Quidditch at all well, and doesn't dream of backing off.
With a feat of strength, Hermione manages to keep all the incendiary comments to herself, instead muttering something about not knowing Ron had been injured. It's true, and fair, even if not precisely gracious in its phrasing, and could have been the end of it, but Fay's in a bit of a mood, and pretty tired of the world revolving around Hermione, and she digs in.
"Well you might have if you weren't making yourself so scarce."
"I'm sorry, I did get bonded," Hermione grits, her jaw jutting stubbornly forward. "Perhaps you heard?"
"Which explains why we haven't seen you at meals or you haven't bothered doing homework with the rest of us..." That's best explained by the unpleasantness arising from even just a few moments of conversation between the three of them. There's no way she's subjecting herself to more of this from the entire House. The girl's insane if she believes otherwise, and Hermione is almost ready to tell her so. And doing homework with them?? For them, more like! Her hair crackles further.
The Baron had recognised the expression on the brunette's face the moment she began, he'd been less certain how excitable the witch he's guarding is. This is proving... unfortunate. He's coming to realise apparently just how much a difference it makes when she's taken whatever Draught she's otherwise on. His options are limited here, and he's currently debating the advisability of simply shifting right through the witch and hoping the shock brings her to her senses. But then he shouldn't like to startle the woman, and the sensation can be... disagreeable. And it would doubtless be best if she remained focused, kept her wits about her... What they need to do is to keep going. Instead he floats there silently.
Considering.
Not particularly usefully.
Hmm.
"Why? Having trouble finishing it on your own?" Hermione hurls back at her ex-roommate, and it occurs to her she's rather enjoying living elsewhere. She hasn't missed these people in the least. If it hadn't had all the other... distastefulness attached, her relocation would be a better solution, have improved her life by far.
Hermione's condescension has always been an issue for her housemates. No one liked her for it. Some liked her in spite of it, but it was safe to say the trait was at best tolerated in the Tower in the face of the utility of the underlying academic superiority that so often gave rise to it. Under those circumstances, people could see their way clear to couching it as 'justifiable', with much good will. The thing is, with Hermione absent of late, she hasn't been all that useful. Which makes this simply annoying and nothing more.
Fay ignores the implied insult, her smile becoming crueller, "So we just haven't seen much of you because you were bonded, is that it?" Hermione can't for the life of her believe they'd missed her... "So what were you doing all weekend? Weren't bonded then." Hermione blinks, taken aback, she thought the Infirmary cover story had answered that well enough, and fails for the moment to consider that information doesn't always travel perfectly through the castle. What sticks with people is often the more salacious version of events, not necessarily the most accurate. Right about now, in fact, Lav is recalling a few of the stories she'd told, a fair few suppositions as to what Hermione had gotten up to... Especially in light of Monday's announcement of the bonding... And beginning to sort of wish she hadn't. "I heard you were busy spending the weekend with Snape." And yes, Lav recognises some of her handiwork in that quite nicely.
Lav reaches for her roommate's elbow, a soft, "Fay," trying to encourage her to take it down a notch. She hasn't got much chance. If anyone had one, it would have been Georgina, and she isn't here.
But Hermione cuts across her meagre attempt, just as sweet as can be, all the more so for the approximate truth of her reply, and responds, "Oh, no worries, Lav. She's right, I did indeed spend Friday night with Severus, and every night since, if we're being particular..."
And now the Baron's rather wishing he'd simply floated through the witch after all. Or possibly all three of them. "Madam Snape," he interrupts in his hoarse whisper, not that Fay or Lav had begun to think of an adequate reply, "You still had things to see to. And you," he looks at the others, rattling his chains for emphasis, "had best get to the Infirmary before it's too late."
Lav and Fay startle, effectively moving from one shock to the next, unsure if that's a threat or not, and if he's even allowed to do that, not that Dumbledore seems to do anything about Peeves for that matter, so the point may be moot... But Nearly-Headless Nick would never do such a thing, they're sure.
"I'm sorry, Baron. You're right. Thank you for the reminder." Hermione finally gets a whiff of clue. "Lav, Fay. It's been nice chatting with you," and she proceeds in the direction of the library with renewed energy, not stopping to look back at the two witches, still staring dumbstruck after them in the Entrance Hall.
Not that the situation will be improved when they regain use of their tongues and Fay begins telling people how Hermione had spent the weekend anticipating her vows.
The Baron bobs silently along beside the witch as they make their way to the library, weighing how best to handle her.
"Should you," he asks, "perhaps, take a Draught before we arrive at the library?"
"Oh!" Hermione stops dead in her tracks.
"Keep going," he tells her in a whisper pitched even lower than usual. "There's an alcove up ahead. It's wisest not to do such things in front of the portraits. One never knows to whom they might mention the things they observe." Well that makes perfect sense. They're Hogwart's version of CCTV, the problem being that here one is somewhat less certain who has access to the 'footage'. She follows his lead, and they disappear into the next alcove where she fishes the Draught from her bag and quaffs it.
"May I recommend doing that before leaving chambers moving forward?"
"Sorry, yes, of course. You're right. I was in a bit of a rush."
"I'd never have suspected," he replies drily, thinking of the state of her uniform as she had. She can guess that he is and gives him a vaguely apologetic shrug.
"Further... Could you possibly see how your... comments to the young... ladies were less than... ideal?"
Yes, yes she could. She'd sort of gotten that the moment she'd said it, really. Of course that was a moment too late. She stands there nibbling her lip instead of replying.
"You understand," the ghost continues to try to impress the gravity of the situation upon her, "there's the Head's reputation to consider..."
And like that, her hand shoots up to clasp the small phial at her neck. "You're right, that was inconsiderate of me." She nibbles fretfully some more. "But do you know, I don't think he much cares what people think. That may be one of his finer points," she adds with a soft huff of amusement. She certainly envies that characteristic something fierce right about now, which may be causing her to overlook several other assets in her present estimation. But then there are a fair few assets she'd never dream of admitting she admires...
The Baron thinks she's grossly underestimating that. For one thing, years of observation have the ghost convinced: the man is often more bothered by things than he permits people to believe, and for another, the ghost is quite certain there are some individuals whose opinions matter greatly. Very greatly. He doesn't know, not from first hand experience, obviously, much about what goes on outside the castle, he hasn't left it in nearly a millennium, but he hears things, and if one hears them often enough from sufficiently diverse and reliable sources... He suspects the situation without is very serious indeed. And in the absence of sure knowledge to the contrary, it's best to err on the side of caution.
"Be that as it may, Madam, I believe that was ill advised..." He thinks how to phrase this, particularly in light of his duty to the Head of House, the things he must do and those he cannot, and decides on, "There are some quarters who will be all too interested in your... relationship. It is... imperative that you put some thought into how your statements reflect on him."
And he's right once more. "I'm sorry," she agrees, clearly subdued despite the Draught. "I'll try to check that impulse in the future." And she resolves to make sure that her comments put the Professor in the best possible light. That's the very least she owes him. The problem being that that wasn't at all what the ghost had meant, and that even if they were in agreement as to the advisability of that, presumably much hinges on one's definition of 'best possible'.
It's fortunate for the poor ghost that he won't be present later today when she proves just how imperfectly she'd understood him.
"Come, you wished to go to the library," he tries to encourage her, and she finds herself following him once more.
The witch's demeanour is much changed to her frankly bubbly recitations of her plans before, and the Bloody Baron begins to feel... yes, he recognises this feeling well enough, he feels guilty, the cause of her current distance. That's unquestionably more accurately her erstwhile roommate, but then the Baron has always been good at seeking blame in his own actions. Not that it was an especially valuable life skill as such, but that counts for much less amongst the dead, and it was definitely something by way of a defining characteristic. Long after his hotheadness appeared to have yielded to near imperturbability - the effects of apathy shouldn't be discounted - feelings of guilt remained.
Less familiar is the urge he now feels to encourage her to regain some of that levity, and he finds himself once again initiating conversation. How very... odd. If this keeps up, he'll displace the garrulous Sir Nicholas in his role, and then where will they be? "I take it things are... better between yourself and the Head?"
Lost in thoughts of her own, Hermione looks at him puzzled for a moment, failing in her distraction to parse 'Head' to 'Professor'.
"Your bondmate," he expands, doing his utmost not to think poorly of her as he does so. And now Hermione stands there wondering what he means by 'better'...
The Estray truly isn't the sharpest, but she's nice and he patiently helps the woman along by indicating her hand. Hermione follows his gesture until her eyes alight on her ring, and she promptly goes rather pale. Hmm. Despite the Draught.
Hmm.
Well no potion is perfect.
Arranged marriages used to be more the rule than the exception, and in his House they remain far from unheard of. As such, it had been an exceedingly common occurrence in his experience to witness two people, chosen for one another, growing closer in the aftermath of such arrangements. Not that he necessarily felt pressed to comment on that fact in general, but he thought the witch looked like she could use a... well yes, something friendly.
Except that seems to have made it worse again.
"N... nothing happened," she stutters, confusing him further as he hadn't implied something had. Although... now that he thinks of it, her clothing this morning could lead to speculation. He considers mentioning that as well and decides to leave off; surely it will only make things worse yet.
Her futile effort to hide her hand behind her back confirms his suspicions that she was less than comfortable about those improvements to their relationship, not that that makes a great deal of sense to him, nor does the gesture. If he's noticed the ring already, surely this was a fruitless attempt at warding the corral after the Thestrals have taken to the air.
"You needn't worry, Madam," he tries to backpedal. "It's hardly noticeable." Which, although true, would be a sight more convincing if he hadn't noticed. He resolves to keep such observations to himself moving forward.
Harper hears the frankly blood curdling screams and digs deep, finding some last vestige of strength, and wand ready in hand, turns to hurry back down the corridor towards them. Admittedly he's lucky it isn't far. He's not quite sure how he manages to do it (later he'll be fairly proud of the effort), but he hadn't stopped to question that he should at least try. That instinct had been part of the reason he'd been selected as a Prefect; Harper has his moments. He reaches the seventh years' door, it's ajar, and without slowing, continues running flat out to enter the room.
And is promptly sent flying, landing unceremoniously on his arse, pitched up against the opposite wall with a terrible thud.
He lies there gasping on the floor, apparently that's becoming a thing, thoroughly discombobulated, struggling to regain his bearings, unsure that he can, and wondering what on earth had gone wrong. Some serious swearing may have been involved. It was probably warranted.
This, he decides, is the very lowest of practical jokes. They'd taken advantage of his good nature, he'd tried to assist, and this is what he had to show for it. The seventh years can fuck right off as far as he's concerned, just see if he ever tries to help them again...
Draco feels the disturbance to his wards, and immediately realises two things: help had arrived - thank Merlin! - and that help had been promptly and most vigorously repelled. Swearing to himself, not quite as colourfully as Harper presently is, but that would be a challenge, Draco ceases his efforts to get the situation under control - Merlin's blighted bollocks, he barely knew where to begin - and rushes from their lav to go let whomever into their room.
He throws the door wide to find Harper lying in an unpromising heap a few yards away.
Slytherin is the only House in the castle that can boast a Contemplatieve. If students selected their Houses instead of the Sorting Hat assigning them, for many that artefact alone would be reason enough to want to move in with the Snakes. There were few at Hogwarts who could afford such extravagances, the Malfoys and Zabinins, possibly the Touchstones and Devis, and fewer still who would be inclined to donate such things to the school. To date, that's a grand total of one. Draco's second year, in a dual celebration of the boy making the Quidditch team - the youngest to do so in well over three centuries (although it had helped that his birthday was late in the school year) - and Lucius' new position as a Hogwarts governor, the family had gifted one to the House in a deep green Connemara marble. (Lucius had been most insistent on the material selection.) It functions much as a Pensieve in that a memory is fed into it and replayed - admittedly less reliably; the errors are occasionally quite amusing - but the primary difference, the one that makes its price so dear, is that memory is projected above the magical device for all gathered to comfortably witness. The memories manifest in a Wisp, much like Theo's Revealing Spell, in silvery, translucent shapes. If Lucius' choice of stone had assured those Wisps were green tinged rather than the customary red, it probably wasn't coincidence.
It enjoys pride of place on a sideboard in the Slytherin dungeon, and for the most part serves to provide the students with some entertainment. Perennial draws are the wizarding fairy tales as told by the Shafiqs' and the Burkes' grandmothers, Quidditch matches of bygone years, and a variety of musical performances. If Millie can be persuaded to cooperate - she's surprisingly reluctant despite the good will it earns her - her memories of her mother's singing are the absolute favourite. (Undoubtably it hadn't hurt that Madam Bulstrode was so easy on the eyes.) Millie's recollections of the home performances are often embellished with live accompaniment from members of the House playing their instruments. Now and again, one of them is even brave enough to sing along. Gregory had managed a truly excellent duet with the Wisp last month - next year, when he and Millie are no longer there, the younger housemates are agreed they'll no doubt be using the memory of that performance in its own right - and Daphne can sometimes be imposed upon to act as a backup singer. Millie, strangely, refuses to even try, despite her undeniable natural talent. That, at least, she seems to have inherited.
The Contemplatieve is only rarely used to convey memories of any import, its unreliability presents too great of a problem, and the dangers that represents in terms of corruption of the original memory render that course of action imprudent. If that weren't the case, Lucius probably wouldn't have risked putting one in the students' hands to begin with. While the Slytherins generally understand the inadvisability of forcing each other to commit to certain memories, one couldn't safely rule out the effects of peer pressure or the propensity adolescents have for frankly poor decision making. As it stood, it seemed safe enough.
On very rare occasions, however, a pressing need outweighs caution.
Spring term last year, just such a need arose; coincidentally, it was Draco's and in his desperation he took advantage of the solution his family had so fortuitously supplied. The then sixth year Prefect had been attacked, he was in terrible shape, badly shaken and oddly unable to tell anyone about the events that had occurred. Judicious questioning had his friends convinced: he'd been forced to take an Oath not to speak of it. But of course the Oath hadn't even begun to cover the Contemplatieve. When the blond was finally able to return to their House, he'd made a straight (if wobbly) line for the artefact, withdrawn the memory with grim determination and sullenly played it for all to see. The entire House had stood there, transfixed, horrified to see Potter nearly gut their Housemate alive. No one who watched will ever forget the sight of Draco, his shirt in bloody tatters, bleeding out on the lavatory floor to the sounds of Moaning Myrtle's screams. The memory was short, but highly effective, ending as Draco had lost consciousness with the arrival of the Head, berating Potter and rushing to save their classmate. That had made quite an impression on them all.
Quite understandably it hadn't been appreciated in the least when the Weasel and his literally bloody Halloween costume made light of that craven attempt on their Prefect's life. But then that's a substantial part of the reason they're all in their present predicament.
There was always the chance the memories they witnessed were inaccurate, no one would deny that, that's just how the device works. But after the events of the past several years, and given Draco's condition at the time, not a person in the House who had viewed them considers that remotely likely.
Draco would never be able to use the memory thereafter to pursue justice. After use of the Contemplatieve, it was considered irredeemably tainted; that much was a given. But as a House, the Slytherins had stopped believing in justice long ago, certainly none was to be found at the school. Merlin knows, Pansy had shouted word of the attack to anyone who would listen, and still nothing happened to precious Potter. By and large, no one believed the claims, and Draco couldn't say a word in support of them. Harry would never do such a thing. If the accusations weren't outright lies, they must be exaggeration. Draco's use of the artefact was far from futile however. What he achieved was understanding, giving rise to an abiding hatred for the Rotter that ran through much of the House, and what he received was support. Of course, that's a little thin on the ground this week since he seems to have betrayed the very man who saved his life, but a very visceral response to that bloodied sight of him sits deep with the Snakes indeed.
Which helps explain Harper's reaction when Draco throws the door wide.
Harper can hear Draco as he rips the door open and casts... something. He looks up about to give the little prat a piece of his mind, the seventh year can just forget all about Harper's assistance with getting the others to lay off the team... and then the words die on his tongue. The blonde is standing there in his uniform trousers, shirt and tie, no sign of his robe, his generally tidy hair is decidedly dishevelled, none of which would matter greatly, but he's pale as a ghost and that white shirt of his is streaked deepest crimson in blood, and that's a look that freezes Harper where he lies.
"Draco?" He whispers, his mouth dry, his voice cracking, and it's like the worst sort of flashback somehow come to life.
"Get help! Now!" Draco shouts at him, and afterwards Harper will feel a little foolish, because if Draco can still shout, it can't be as bad as he initially feared, but right now he just reacts, rolling to his hands and knees and half stumbles, half crawls to the stairs he practically throws himself down in his haste, fuelled by the seventh year's continued screaming, "We need help! Theo... Merlin, Theo..."
Harper hits the landing with another 'thud', it seems that too is becoming a thing, and begins to drag himself towards the girls still seated on the couches. They stare for a moment in shock, intellectually he can understand that only too well, but it isn't exactly helpful at the moment. He reaches the steps leading down from the dais to the lounge and another shout greets him, "Mr. Hutchinson! You are out of uniform! Curfew has ended, the common area is off limits until you are properly..."
"Not now, Professor," he pants at the portrait, as he nevertheless comes to a halt. It's practically ingrained. He turns to the girls. "Where's Ella? Has she already left?"
Daphne shakes her shock off first, and gesturing to the girls' dorm, answers, "No, we were waiting for her... Harper... are you alright?"
"I... We need Ella," he replies, clearly not in the best of shape.
Duly concerned, Daphne begins to go get the other sixth year Prefect for him, but he's learnt something from yesterday morning, and stops her with, "No, you and Tomasina need to come with me. Tori, can you get Ella please? We need her now."
"Sure," Tori doesn't bother to ask questions, she has a bad feeling the trouble will be all too obvious. She jumps from the couch at a run, headed for the girls' stairs. Daphne, already in motion, reaches the dais first, and she stops to help Harper up. He tries to wave her on, "Theo, I think Theo has been hurt." He hadn't mentioned it yesterday, and he should have. Theo is one of her closest friends. Harper won't make that mistake again.
She's visibly torn for a moment, but he's looking rather peaked himself, and she just grabs his arm more tightly, meaning to take him back to the boys' wing with her. If he were fitter, he'd take that for the compliment it is. Tomasina joins them, without asking simply wraps Harper's other arm over her shoulders, and by the time the trio reaches the seventh years' room, Harper is almost walking normally again.
Which is for the best as the seventh years need all the help they can get.
A/N:
"You can't leave them like that." Hermione is blinking a little fast; usually that's not a good sign.
"What, with something cliffhanger-y? Of course I can. I do it all the time. I know, I know, 'Which doesn't make it right,' cheers. Hey, I'm posting pretty much weekly right now, it shouldn't be so bad."
"Nooooo," she practically wails. "With the impression that Connemara marble is marble."
"Uh..." It's Ginger's turn to blink as she considers how best to manage the swot. "Well to be fair, the name is misleading..."
"All the more reason to address that!" Hermione is now vibrating with barely restrained swottiness. She looks like it could erupt any moment.
"Alright. Sure. If you want to, go right..."
"Connemara Marble is not a marble. It is more accurately a breccia,"
"...ahead."
"Which is a rock composed of broken fragments of minerals or rock cemented together by a finer calcareous material..."
"So you think they aren't familiar with 'breccia' but that 'calcareous' is going to explain anything?" Ginger's raised eyebrow of doubt comes into play.
"Dictionaries!" Hermione scoffs, naming both the solution and the source of the problem in one. "'Chalky', in this case in a fine grained matrix that can be similar or different in composition to those fragments."
"And you got that from wikipedia, didn't you?"
"More or less," comes the more quiet admission. "But I think what mattered, what was relevant, is that Connemara marble, or 'Verd Antique', is a serpentinite breccia." She smiles smugly.
"Probably," the ginger allows.
"You were being cute." The smile just became improbably smugger.
"I often am. Wasn't there something else we wanted to say?"
"Oh! Holy Cricket! Yes!"
Both women as one chime, "Happy Birthday,
melodyssister!" "Hope it's a good one." 🎂🎉🎁🌷G.
ETA: Hey, folks, just did the maths. This monster is now over 750k. And while I'm stupid proud of that accomplishment, I also wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has read this far, because that's ridiculously long. So thanks. Thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for liking and most of all, thanks for accompanying me on this journey. ❤️
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Thank you so much! Now to actually read the chapter, which I'm sure will be as delightful as always.
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Thank you again!!
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Glad to have made you happy. 😃
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It's funny, it was doable to get it out on time for your birthday, so I'd have been disappointed had I not, but at the same time I sort of hoped you had something better to do with your day. (Well, I guess unless that's how you prefer to spend it... lol) I hope your birthday was a happy one.
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You are awesome and this story is awesome.
Poor Theo (and I don't even know what has happened to him)
Hermione is going to regret her "all weekend" comment
And Thursday is finally here! I have been waiting months to find out just who is going to help Hermione get back in the restricted section (please tell me its Thursday and not Friday, I am all the sudden second guessing myself)
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Thanks that's really nice to hear. Kind of needed it this week. 😊
Yeah, Theo is not the luckiest character in this story. On the other hand, he does have Daphne, and even Draco gives a damn, which is saying something.
Yes. As with most things, it has a cumulative effect you can't easily trace back to the inciting incident. So while it ultimately makes a difference, it's very hard for her (or the other characters, really) to know how much it does so. I find that's often the case. But fortunately neither we nor she spend much time with the small minded individuals who insist on dragging her name through the mud. (I mean, why would you? They can naff right off.)
Minor Yes, your memory is something else. 😃 That gets addressed today.
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I feel bad for Hermione here. She reacts badly with Lavender but they are all just teenagers so bad, thoughtless reactions are standard operating procedures. It’s tough realises how little connection you have with your supposed peers. :( and also. She’s recovering from sexual assault and they keep drugging her (Calming Draughts anyone?). Hogwarts is hectic.
This will backfire badly on Severus and I feel for both of them. :(
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I'm with Hermione on this one, I *still* do that, and I've left adolescence long behind me. lol Properly riled, I'll let something fly, and have to do a Hagrid afterwards. (I shouldna said that...) Yeah, she really isn't close to the others. I think sometimes that's lonely, but on the other hand, it's because she's who she is, and I think she wouldn't want to change that either. So if this is the consequence, in a very real way, she's cool with it.
The assault obviously wasn't great, but she's got the much bigger problem of 1) nothing happened (so why do you feel kind of like it did?) and 2) knowing *exactly* what Severus went through Monday night, and in retrospect having a pretty good idea how bad Friday was, too, which was obviously so much worse. At some point you start comparing in your own mind and thinking you have no right to complain. She needs to resolve that for herself first before she can begin to heal.
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That just happened... Hermione screwed up royally... yeah she was egged on by imbecilic Lav & Fay, but still realize that it's going to hurt Severus in the long run. Stupid teenage angsty hormonal behavior. sigh.
Thank you for being such a prolific writer, love the tremendously in-depth view of the inner workings of this story. The details are remarkable.
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Poor Hermione! It's so easy to say the wrong thing when emotions are high
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The Contemplatieve! What a wonderful invention! Oh holy night, I love that Draco uses it to make things about Rotter clear to the snakes. It feels right. As you say, the snakes have come to realize there is no justice, particularly at Hogwarts.
And now I am scared for Theo!!!!! What has gone wrong with all those pranks?!
Your author note is spectacular. Congrats on 750+k words, you are probably well over a million by now :D
I have to read on, the suspense is KILLING ME.
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Secondly,
Hermione!No! (Headdesk, headdesk, headdesk) Where is Harry with the langlock when you need him?
Wait, I got it. Timeturner. Stupify F. Stupify L. Obliviate F. Obliviate L. Silencio H. DoP H. Go to your room young lady and think about what you did. You are grounded from the library!