"interconnected part 1" by gingerbred
Sep. 26th, 2021 01:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
christmasspiritLavender Brown / Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger / Severus Snape, Background: Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott / Hestia Carrow, Ron Weasley / Demelza Robins
Staff: Professor McGonagall, Slytherins: Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Hestia Carrow, Flora Carrow, Valerie Vaisey, Sheldon Shafiq, Gryffindors: Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Seamus Finnigan, Ron Weasley, Ravenclaw: Padma Patil
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom, Rubeus Hagrid, Pomona Sprout, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Ella Wilkins, Roísín Rosier, Ava Avery, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Ritchie Coote, Jack Sloper, Others: Fenrir Greyback, Madam Malkin
03 January, 1999. Now that the students are returning from the holidays, what will that mean for a couple of fledgling relationships? And if those relationships hold up under public scrutiny, how will they affect the individuals concerned?
Written with oodles of love formywitch and erexen.
Originally Published: 2021-09-26 on LJ / DW
Words: 10.2 k
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender Brown (8G, no longer Ron's bit on the side (or anywhere else), she's begun seeing a certain Slytherin instead), Blaise Zabini (8S, highly intrigued by the duality of Lavender's nature), Hermione Granger (recent Hogwarts graduate and Transfiguration apprentice), Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Master, and a great deal happier of late), Staff: Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend), Pansy Parkinson (8S, observant friend), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Flora Carrow (7S, studious but sadly guilt-ridden twin), Valerie "Val" Vaisey (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Sheldon Shafiq (7S, Beater), Gryffindors: Parvati "'Vati" Patil (8G, Lavender's best friend and roommate), Fay Dunbar (8G, Reserve Chaser), Seamus Finnigan (8G fiery Reserve Beater, long time friend of Lavender's), Ron Weasley (8G, Lavender's ex, ex-Keeper, presently seeing Demelza), Ravenclaw: Padma Patil (8R, Prefect)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom (Head of Gryffindor, Herbology Apprentice), Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures Instructor), Pomona Sprout (Head of Hufflepuff, Herbology Professor), Slytherins: Draco Malfoy (8S, Captain, Seeker, Potter's), Gregory Goyle (8S, Beater, gentle giant), Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect), Roísín Rosier (7S), Ava Avery (6S), Gryffindors: Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker, Draco's), Dean Thomas (8G, Chaser), Ritchie Coote (7G, Beater, ex-Captain), Jack Sloper 7G (ex-Keeper), Others: Fenrir Greyback (werewolf and monster), Madam Malkin (clothier to the wizarding world, or at least Hogwarts)
The previouslies are very robust. If you've recently read the Christmas Spirit stories, skip them, if not, no worries, I've got you covered. You can find a links to the individual stories / chapters in the "christmas spirit index" (LJ / DW / AO3).
Hestia Carrow and Val Vaisey suffered similar fates to Lavender's last year - all three young women were attacked by werewolves by day. Predictably, the results have left them incredibly sensitive to the phases of the moon, and considering the lunar calendar, more than a little prickly just at the moment. ACoCE 2
Due to a shortage of staff deemed trustworthy, first year Herbology apprentice Neville Longbottom (of all people) is made Head of Gryffindor at the beginning of the school year. (It's taken some getting used to.) Hermione, having missed her seventh year in favour of the gap year camping trip from hell, condenses the curriculum into a semester, graduates and is about to begin an apprenticeship of her own in Transfiguration. CS
Harry and Draco announce to those at the school over the Christmas holidays that they're seeing one another. Being "out" allows them to spend more time together, which is doing them both a world of good. CS
Severus and Hermione likewise tumble into a relationship over the hols. In a somewhat misguided attempt to keep Harry from being expelled, Hermione - falsely - confesses to setting off a ridiculous number of Whiz-bangs in the school corridors. Minerva won't accept that the young woman would do such a stupid and inconsiderate thing, to say nothing of willingly putting her Transfiguration apprenticeship at risk, and demands Severus perform Legilimency on Hermione in order to clear her name. As a result, he comes to learn the witch has rather strong... feelings for him. When the two fail act on this - to be fair, the revelation takes Severus quite by surprise - the Bloody Baron arranges a convenient Mistletoe trap. (He's proving something of a romantic.) CS Regardless of the circumstances of their beginnings, things are coming along swimmingly for the two of them. HC,S 1&2
The same, however, can't quite be said for Ron. Lavender discovers he's cheating on her - Christmas Eve, no less - and somewhat understandably neglects to provide him with an alibi when he's subsequently - wrongly - accused of setting off the Whiz-bangs. In fact, when he's ultimately suspended from the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the charge, she doesn't even feel the least bit guilty given his abysmal behaviour. Making matters even worse, because apparently he's a glutton for punishment, he's also on the outs with Hermione and Harry for some of his... uncharitable and occasionally outright homophobic remarks. CS He's simply not coping well with the realisation that his best friend is gay, or that both of his closest friends happen to be seeing Slytherins, his prejudices not remotely restricted to sexuality, and Malfoy and Snape clearly being the worst of all possible options.
After learning Ron is cheating on her with Demelza, Lavender unceremoniously dumps him. CS Dean owls Seamus the same night to alert him to that development, and the absent Gryffindor sends his good friend Lavender a bottle of Firewhisky for Christmas to try to help take her mind off things. (Their coping strategies may leave something to be desired...) It's an incredibly rough week, but then Blaise trips into her life (and an inopportunely located statue), and rather unexpectedly, but no less pleasurably, after celebrating a drunken Hogmanay together (thanks to Seamus' whisky), the two have embarked on a very enjoyable fling. ACoCE 2 In light of the tensions in the school, they've elected to keep it to themselves, however, with the exception of Parvati, who pretty much knows most things anyway, but then she's always fancied she was quite good at Divination. ACoCE 5
After laughing at him for walking into a statue ACoCE 1, Lavender tries to apologise to Blaise by teaching him one of her favourite Glamours, an excellent Masking Charm that also has the decided advantage of healing injured tissue. ACoCE 2 Of course she then proceeds to provide him with enough scratches and love bites that he needs it. To be fair, it was a full moon; the werewolf attacked are a mite tetchy, and he'd had precious few objections to offer anyway. ACoCE 3, ACoCE 4a&b
Ever the Slytherin, Blaise suggests to Lavender that with Hermione's graduation, there might be an opportunity for her to become the Gryffindors' eighth year Prefect. He proceeds to neatly present all the arguments why she should have the position instead of her roommates. ACoCE 2 The support goes both ways, as Lavender works to teach him the Patronus Charm, thinking it will help demonstrate to any who might still doubt him that he isn't a Death Eater. Plus they're fun. Oo er. As she herself had needed forever to master the corporeal form of the Charm, progress is perhaps unsurprisingly slow. ACoCE 4b, ACoCE 5
When Theo uses a relatively harmless Restraining Spell while he and Hestia are having sex, the Aurors are automatically summoned to the school thanks to the trace on his wand. The result is nothing shy of humiliating, although Hestia, Severus and Minerva do their level bests to teach the Aurors a painful lesson for the presumption. Mentioned in ACoCE 4b
Moments after curfew ends, she must have been waiting, Hestia comes racing into their room and pounces on Theo. Holidays or not, the restrictions prohibiting witches in the boys' dorms at night remain; unsurprising, particularly as the timing of those holidays has shifted greatly over the centuries, and Salazar Slytherin had set them himself. Still, more than one member of his House has found it inconvenient this week alone.
Blaise has had another late night with the Gryffindor he's somehow begun seeing and had hoped to sleep in... So much for that. As it is, he just puts up the Privacy Charm Theo seems presently unable to - if the giggling from behind his bed curtains is anything to go by anyway - filling in for Draco who isn't back yet to do that sort of thing for them. The Seeker has been rather scarce of late. But then on the upside, at least his canoodling with Potter isn't costing his roommates any sleep.
The same can't be said for Theo's little romp.
Zabini pulls a pillow over his head - its usefulness more psychological than practical now that he can't hear them, and far from sufficient either way - tosses and turns for a while and ultimately fails to fall back to sleep. Resigned, he puts on his Glamour - just in case Hestia finishes with Theo or Gregory should wake - and goes to shower. If he takes longer than usual, who can blame him? And if his thoughts wander to a certain Moggie? Also not surprising. He can't help thinking how lucky Theo is that Hestia is a fellow Snake.
He dries himself off and then with a towel wrapped low about his hips, Blaise takes up position before one of the mirrors and sees to his teeth, performs a Spell to clean and polish his nails, another to address that irksome morning stubble that stubbornly insists on reappearing and then finally massages a Jarvey oil product into his scalp. Manually. It's worth the added effort. Once finished, he examines himself again, quite pleased with the results, not that they were in question, but his reflection appears to agree as the thumbs up and broad smile it flashes him would seem to indicate.
With a nod in silent greeting, Hestia passes Blaise on her way in, dressed in nothing but one of Theo's towels, a Sticking Charm evidently holding it in place. Unlike Lavender, she doesn't constantly wear Glamours - in large part because the scars the werewolf had so generously gifted her are limited to her back - and she isn't wearing one now, but it's a sign of trust (and her increased self-confidence) that she's willing to expose them to him as she walks into the bathroom and heads for the showers. She'd come a long way over the course of the first term.
Having developed a special interest in these things over the last couple of days - quite inexplicably, he's sure - he observes those scars now more closely once she's past him. For the first time it occurs to him that they tell a horrifying story of the attack. One set of four deep streaks all the way across her back, the blow that had surely incapacitated her. And then there are a series of marks in the vicinity of her shoulders where the fiend had evidently gripped her, adjusting its hold repeatedly, presumably pinning her down. Yes, there's trust involved in her willingness to display the extensive damage.
Those scars must hurt, too...
Hesitating only briefly, he calls out to stop her before she can disappear behind one of the shower curtains, "Hestia, would you mind letting me try something?"
"Well you can try," she smirks, the latent threat clear. She's notoriously testy this time of month, and no one in their House has forgotten how she dealt with the Aurors recently on a night the moon was nowhere near full, but he's known his teammate too long to worry. Instead he Summons the parchment with the Glamour Lavender had given him and gestures for Hestia to turn her back towards him again. She watches him in the mirror, more from curiosity than unease, and he soon performs the Spell on her, leaving out the modifier for his darker complexion.
"What did you do?" She asks immediately, her tone more impressed than accusatory. It's taken away some of the pain from the scarring, and yet she could swear from the wand movement that had been a Masking Spell of some sort or another. She turns her back towards the mirrors to try to get a better look and is promptly even more impressed with the results. The thing is good.
"It's a new Glamor," he explains and proceeds to elaborate on its potential healing properties. "Who knows, it just might help."
"Nothing helps anymore," she replies, some annoyance beginning to creep into her tone. Were the moon less full, it would have been resignation instead.
Blaise shrugs, "Well at the least it feels nice, it definitely does the job as Masking Spells go, and it might be worth checking to see if it does. Actively heal. What do you have to lose?" He has a point. "Do you have a Charm that would quantify the extent of the scarring?" He asks more softly. He knows how sensitive Lavender is about her scars; he doesn't mean to make Hestia feel less comfortable about her own.
The Chaser shakes her head 'no', "But Theo does.
"And if he didn't, Flora would," she adds a little ruefully. Blaise nods in understanding; her twin wrestles with the guilt that Hestia had been sacrificed to the werewolves. When the Death Eaters had sought to make an example of the girls' parents last year, it was sheer dumb luck they'd taken one sister instead of the other, a thought that weighs on Flora heavily. She and Theo have done everything they could to try to help Hestia recover. If there was a spell or a potion or a salve rumoured to be of use, they'd tracked it down and tried it. As a result, Hestia's back is greatly improved, but the healing has long since stalled. There's been no progress for months now.
"Have him measure it then, would you? It would be good to know if it works. I'll make you a copy of the Spell and leave it with Theo." He pauses, considering, and then continues, "Could you do me a favour? Brown was good enough to find the Charm for me..."
"Brown?" She double checks. "The Moggie?"
"The same," he nods, half daring her to say something.
Full moon or not, she just shrugs. Her curiosity piqued, she then turns to look at her back in the mirror again and with a chuckle asks, "And that worked on you?"
He smirks, because he'd had similar thoughts about the unlikelihood of that succeeding when Lavender had applied it to him. "With a modifier for my skin tone, yes." Hmm.
"At any rate, I owe her one for the effort," he says by way of vast misrepresentation, "and I thought, if you were willing, perhaps you could say something to her to help her understand she isn't alone in dealing with the aftereffects. Of the attacks..." He needn't elaborate, Hestia knows all too well which attacks he means. It occurs to her that while Val has benefited from the research they've done on the effects of such assaults, she hasn't actually spoken with Brown about it. None of them had, to the best of her knowledge.
Start of term, McGonagall had put them all at one table, the wolf girls. They hadn't realised it initially. Flora was seated with them, Val and Hestia had long been friends, and the three were the same year... The seating arrangement had seemed natural enough. Brown hadn't appeared at meals during the first couple of weeks, and in order to sit with Theo, Hestia had traded seats with Pansy before the Moggie finally joined their table. Her condition was obvious as soon as one saw what she ate. Or at least, it was obvious to anyone with a bit of experience, and they now had it in spades.
"Only if you're willing, but I gather she's struggling a bit..." He leaves it at that. Personally, Hestia can't help thinking some of that struggle must be down to the Weasel and their catastrophic falling out last week - Merlin knows Draco had had enough to say about him lately - but doesn't feel the need to comment on some Gryffindor's love life. It might have been tangentially of interest if it had affected Weasley more, but he seemed to have landed on his feet with one of their Chasers, and he wasn't even on the team anymore anyway. She'd as soon spare him no more thought.
"Sure," she nods. "If you'd like me to. I'll try to talk to her at one of the meals." Not that Hestia doesn't have good reason - exceptionally good reason - to keep mostly to their own, but the fact she's less concerned with helping another witch dealing with the same issues just because she's from a different House than she is than with doing a favour for a friend is a good bit of the reason Blaise wouldn't explain his real motivation here. He simply thanks her and leaves, depositing a copy of the Masking Spell for her on Theo's nightstand before he heads to breakfast.
Lavender is chatting happily with 'Vati at breakfast about their fellow students' return later today when one of the Slytherin twins slides into the seat beside her. At a guess, she'd say it's the Chaser, but only because the witch tends to do such frightfully practical but less than appealing things to her hair. As if there weren't perfectly good Charms for that sort of thing, bless. Really, say what one might about Rosier, Snakes - well, except for Blaise, of course - she should have been able to sort that... whatever it was easily. She was rather good at that sort of thing really. As Lavender has never managed Demelza's hair, for what now seem to be all too obvious reasons (but at the time was surely more a matter of potential competition), she wonders fleetingly if Rosier and Carrow are interested in the same wizard.
Hmm.
"Brown," Carrow greets her. Chatty one, isn't she?
"Carrow," Lav replies, feeling just the model of wit. She's not naturally taciturn, but it seems the thing to do. 'Vati tries not to smirk in recognition of her roommate's act.
"Quite the moon last night," Carrow comes unexpectedly to the point. Well, mostly. But Lavender knows just what's meant.
"That is was," she nods, not especially helping the conversation along, but Lav's voice sounds every bit as tight as her expression looks. The Gryffindor really isn't good at hiding things.
Hestia inhales, trying to find some patience. It was never precisely her strong suit to begin with, that was more Flora's thing, and at this phase of the moon, it proves increasingly difficult. Remembering her assurances to Blaise - and of course her back does feel better, even if the witch quite evidently hadn't meant to share the Glamour with her directly - Hestia nevertheless makes an effort and attempts to speak to the superficial Moggie. By now they knew, more or less, what had happened to her during the Battle of Hogwarts.
That fucking monster Greyback.
Brown's 'brave' sacrifice as a combatant had been whispered about the school, and Hestia is certain the woman doesn't receive a fraction of the sideways looks she or Val do, cheers. There might be a bit of resentment behind that thought, and the exceptionally brief conversation that follows probably reflects that. It's awkward. Perhaps if they'd sat at the same table all autumn as the Headmistress had intended it would be less so, but the witches are essentially strangers, and this is a highly personal matter for them both.
When Hestia ultimately settles on emphasising to the Moggie that she isn't the only one dealing with these issues - conceivably less supportive in phrasing than assuring her 'you aren't alone in this' or something along those lines - Lavender unfortunately hears 'you should suck it up and stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself'. A bit of a stretch, but then she's sensitive about these things, and frankly the Snake has said worse things to Ron while on the pitch. It's all too easy for Lav to believe.
Frustrated, Hestia soon rises and goes to sit with the other Slytherins, and Lavender and Parvati are only too happy to see her go, their conversation not coincidentally shifting to the absolute nerve of some people. How very dare she?
By the time they're finished, Lav's back is well up, sufficiently so that she decides to take Blaise's advice and speak to Professor McGonagall after breakfast about the prefect's position left newly opened by Hermione's graduation. Righteous indignation can be useful like that.
Of course it might have been better if she'd thought to mention it to 'Vati first, especially considering all the other things she has no qualms about unloading on her roommate.
Pansy is just telling the others that something is clearly afoot with Brown when Hestia joins them, taking the free seat beside Theo. Considering the fact Brown had found a Charm modifier for Blaise, the Chaser believes she knows the answer.
"I think she's taken a shine to our good Keeper." Hestia is less given to gossiping than Róisín or Ava, say, and when she makes assertions like that, it carries more weight. A number of heads subtly turn to regard the two Moggies at their table, presently carrying on a heated conversation in which they look their way not once. Still, considering the woman's behaviour from shortly before, a few nod now, deeming Hestia's logic probable. It certainly meshes with Pansy's thinking.
"Poor Blaise," one of the sixth year girls chimes in, a few more agree.
"Perfectly natural," Róisín adds. Blaise is considered an incredibly good catch. Even a silly Moggie should recognise that. And his family had undeniably escaped much of the taint that burdened the other boys in his year. Perhaps not all, the trace on his wand alone proved that, but these days just being designated a Slytherin was problematic enough. It was undoubtedly no coincidence they'd had fewer Firsties than the other Houses this year, a fact that weighs on them all.
Again Blaise finds himself thinking that he has very good reasons not to share his involvement with Lavender even with his friends. The problems facing the relationship don't come exclusively from without his House.
No, he'll be keeping this to himself, cheers.
"Seamus!" Lav cries and races over to her friend, giving him the biggest imaginable hug as the returning students clambering through the portrait hole try to squeeze around them.
Neither notices.
The greeting is a far cry from how she'd begun the last term, hiding in the basements, speaking to no one but the house elves, and not even staying long in their company. She generally doesn't notice the progress she's made, but her closest friends do. So much so that even their friends are aware of the issues, and Dean just smiles and waves at his roommate from across the common room, knowing he probably won't see him until dinner. The teammates have much to discuss.
Lav thanks Seamus effusively for the bottle of Ogden's he'd sent her for Christmas, not that her owl hadn't conveyed her gratitude already, but she's in a much cheerier frame of mind this evening than she was a over a week ago, and of course owls don't relay hugs. That would be silly.
Finally registering the disapproving grunts of their housemates - fine, the location was perhaps less than ideal - Lav drags Seamus off into one of the niches. There the two friends sit curled up on one of the small squashy couches, catching up, which for the most part means Seamus tells her how he'd spent his holidays as Lavender still isn't telling anyone about her, erm, whatever it is with Blaise.
Well, except for 'Vati that is, and then only because she'd guessed.
Eventually they run out of small talk, and Seamus takes her hand gently. "How are you doing, Lav?" He doesn't need to say he means the situation with Ron. They've known each other too long for that.
She'd half dreaded that question, as she feels much better now, really, but how can she explain that without actually explaining it? He takes her inevitable evasions to mean she's worse than he'd hoped after that warm greeting and gives her hand an affectionate squeeze. When she runs out of platitudes and vague observations about relationships and sort of sputters to a stop - she really should have practised what to say - he meets her eyes and solemnly asks, "Would you like me to punch him for you?"
As she'd very much had Blaise on her mind at that moment instead of Ron, that causes a flash of panic, and then she laughs. "No, but thank you ever so for asking." Seamus can be incredibly sweet.
"Are you sure?" He prods, relieved to hear her laugh like that. He hadn't exactly planned on hitting his roommate, but he certainly wasn't opposed to it either. Ron of all people should understand what Lav had been through. Better than most, as Seamus gathers his older brother Bill had had to weather some of the same problems. So to just use her like that... It was dirty pool and no way to treat a friend of his.
"I reserve the right to change my mind," she quips.
"Absolutely," he nods sagely. "That's always a witch's prerogative."
She laughs again, "How lovely of you to recognise that. I was saying much the same to someone else lately." There's something playing about her smile as she says it that has Seamus wondering, but she seems happy, and he isn't one to look gift horses in the mouth. She'll tell him when she's ready, he's sure.
Then Lavender takes him by surprise by asking him what it will mean for the House Quidditch team that Ron's no longer playing for them, and Seamus is off and flying. There've been dozens of owls back and forth all week trying to work out just that, and Jack Sloper was beyond thrilled to be back on the team and re-installed as Keeper to boot. After their ignominious defeat against Slytherin, the general feeling was they really needed to step up their game. Ron hadn't kept much of anything against the Slytherin Chasers' onslaught, their witches were frightfully good, and sentiment is they probably should have made the switch to Jack much earlier. And of course now some of them are wondering if Harry hadn't maybe taken it easier on the Snakes for presently all too obvious reasons.
Lav blinks a bit owlishly, thinking about some of the things Blaise had said regarding the prejudice facing Harry and Malfoy and wonders if that isn't some of what's behind those thoughts, conscious or not. She hadn't noticed it before - why would she have? - but Blaise may just have a point. That's a little worrisome.
Seamus doesn't notice, why would he? For no number of Galleons would he ever have guessed where Lav's thoughts lie or why. When he'd left for the hols she'd been head over heels for Ron, so this? Absolutely not on his list of possible - never mind probable - things. Instead he keeps merrily telling her about the arrangements the team has made and all the plans they have, just pleased she doesn't seem upset when he has to mention Ron now and again for it to make any sense. That's a huge relief. And so he continues in that fashion right up until it's almost time for them to head down for the start of term feast, when Lavender's Tempus chimes.
"Oh!" She exclaims, jumping up and nearly jostling Seamus from his seat. Lav can be overenthusiastic like that, she's just lucky he has so much practice balancing on a broom. "Sorry, must dash. Professor McGonagall asked me to stop by to see her before the meal," and with a flurry of robes and feeling ever so hopeful about the answer she's due to receive, she's off, hurrying for the exit.
Only then does Seamus seek out Parvati's eyes, silently asking if she's made accommodations. The Headmistress' new seating arrangements are really something rubbish, especially in situations like this.
Hermione wipes her palms surreptitiously on her teaching robes, displeased to find her hands are perceptibly clammy. She's nervous, she acknowledges with a sinking feeling. The start of term feast will begin soon, and this will be her first meal taken at the High Table, assuming she can swallow a bite of it that is... Well, it's still her first meal there either way, she supposes, whether she actually eats anything or not... But after six and a half years of sitting amongst the students looking up to it? Yes. Nervous. Decidedly that.
And if that weren't enough to do it, which it definitely is, there's still the matter of where to sit. She bites her lip - nervously, of course - working up the courage to ask Severus about that and annoyed at herself that she hadn't had the pluck to do so before now. Nothing like leaving it to the last minute...
But she's just not sure how to broach the topic.
They're still in his flat - they're practically always in his flat, a fact she loves to itty tiny bits and very nearly as much as his book-filled quarters, thank you very much - for that matter they've barely set toe outside of it this past week and a half. While she isn't too uneasy about the thought of running into the Slytherins on their way to the meal - most of them seemed to have stayed for the hols anyway, and she's had a chance to get used to them - she is a little worried about facing the whole school tonight. Would it be better or worse to be seated together? She really doesn't know. No matter how she looks at it, it feels like this is their first semi-public appearance as a couple, and well, yes, it has her stomach doing even more odd convolutions of its own.
Her agitation impossible to miss, Severus comes up behind her and wraps her gently in his arms. She leans into the embrace and soon he's trailing soft kisses along her neck that have her completely forgetting what she'd wanted to ask him.
"What's wrong, Hermione?" He prompts rather helpfully. Just as well as the chances something would occur to her while he's doing that or that she'd ever entertain the notion of interrupting it were effectively nil.
"Hmm?" She replies with all the focus she can muster and makes him laugh. Would all her problems were that easy to solve.
"What has you worried?" He asks gently. She's relieved when he does that he hadn't tried to guess. She suspects there are a whole host of things she could add to her list to fret about; she certainly hadn't any need of suggestions had she overseen any.
She feels like a Firstie saying it, but finally forces the words out, "I'm not sure where I'm supposed to sit." Severus has the decency to not even smile, so she continues, "Minerva hasn't said anything about it," nor had Severus for that matter, "and the idea of walking in to the Hall filled with students and searching for my seat like a numpty..." Really, all things considered, she'd been better prepared for what would come as a first year. She'd read everything about the Sorting well in advance and had approached things with more confidence than she can presently seem to muster.
"Which is why we're leaving a little early, for one," he kisses her reassuringly.
"I'll still have to wait until everyone is seated to see where she's placed me. It's not like there are place cards," Hermione objects and then blanches. "In fact, arriving early just means I'll have to stand there even longer." She can't believe she's never paid attention to how that's done before. Come to think of it, the new instructors just always seemed to be seated already. Bugger.
"For another," he kisses her again, "I may have taken the liberty of making some arrangements. You're sitting next to me."
It's a huge relief, just the fact he'd thought of it, never mind that he actually wants her there for all to see, except she still isn't certain if it's a good idea. Outside of the protective little bubble the holidays had seemed to offer, she's no longer certain of the advisability of a great many things.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
There's a huff of amusement, as he would hardly have made the necessary arrangements unless he were. "Yes," he replies with the patience of saints, but there's little point in making her more nervous. "Unless you'd plans to end our relationship any time in the foreseeable future, that is," he teases. The note of jest aside, she finds that a source of relief as well, having become sufficiently accustomed to his sense of humour to hear the unspoken reassurance that he most certainly hadn't. She also knows enough not to dignify his teasing with a reply when there are more pressing things to sort.
"You really don't have to, though, Severus. I can probably go sit with Neville." Belatedly it occurs to her perhaps she should have spoken to Minerva on that count.
"Hermione, believe me, everyone is well aware we're a couple." Her heart definitely still skips whenever he says things like that. "Not sitting together will give rise to more talk than if you're seated beside me. And I'd miss you if you weren't," he finishes with another kiss. "At any rate, as I said, I've already made arrangements. If you were to do anything else at this juncture it would be highly inconvenient..." She knows he's teasing, and he's obviously going to such lengths to put her at ease, and she finally begins to relax.
More seriously he continues, "While I believe you'll find things to your satisfaction, if they aren't we can always revisit the issue. Nothing, but nothing is set in stone. I would, however, suggest not doing so in public. It's the sort of thing best arranged in the staff lounge..." He doesn't get to finish as she interrupts with a very enthusiastic kiss, all the tension from before clearly vanished from her posture.
For the life of her she can't imagine being anything less than pleased with whatever he's set up. He seems to have such a good understanding of her likes and needs. Sometimes, like now, even more so than she does.
"Hermione," he finally pulls away, "if we keep this up, we aren't going to be early. I rather thought that would be preferable to making an entrance."
"I'm sorry, you're right, of course..."
"Of course," he nods, agreeing completely, the smug arse.
She bats at his chest and continues, "That was incredibly thoughtful of you..."
"Please tell me that doesn't still come as a surprise..." he interjects with a smirk.
Raising her voice slightly to drown him out, she finishes with an emphatic, "Thank you." She punctuates it with a small kiss to his cheek so as not to get started snogging him again, and then pulls away, righting her clothes. His don't seem in the least disarray, a source of brief frustration until he catches her look and laughs.
"There are Charms for that, witch. We need to look into placing some on your teaching robes. Frankly Madam Malkin should have seen to it already."
Suitably prepared, he gives her a soft look, "Are we ready?" He takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
She nods, nibbling her lip slightly despite all the reassurance he offers.
"Would you prefer to take my arm or not?" He asks. "Both options work, both have nearly equal things to recommend them as well as disadvantages, so I thought we'd play that decision strictly by ear and see how you're feeling."
"How early are we?" She replies. There's a slightly timid note to it that doesn't surprise him under the circumstances. He can remember his first meal as faculty vividly. Things hadn't been easy then either.
"Early enough that it won't be too much of a statement. And most of the people we'll encounter en route are Slytherins anyway." As they seem to have deemed the relationship advantageous for the House, they've been nothing but supportive - how typical - so at least there's that.
Her arm snakes through his almost automatically, her residual anxiety on display in the fierceness with which she clings to him. Severus kisses the top of her head affectionately one last time for luck which helps settle her nerves. "Relax," he whispers as he opens the door.
"I'm surprised Madam Malkin hadn't suggested adding such Charms of her own accord. She's always so keen on securing another sale," he tells her, making conversation as the door automagically closes behind them.
"Hmm. I don't think she likes me very much," Hermione answers realistically.
"Why ever not?" He asks, genuinely confused.
Hermione tries not to grin at the notion he's positioning her as irresistible, how funny, and only narrowly avoids teasing him for it. They've decided not to be too demonstrative in public, so it wouldn't do. Generally speaking, public displays wouldn't suit her in the least, but she does have to battle the occasional thoroughly sappy impulse these days.
Truth be told, so does he.
"There were a great number of awards ceremonies after the war. You cleverly managed to miss most of them..." she begins.
"By being comatose in St. Mungo's," he nods sanguinely. They're in complete agreement that that's preferable, presupposing one's life weren't hanging in the balance; Hermione had been rather insistent on that caveat. Now and again Severus feels even then it might be the better option, invariably when he's stuck at such a function.
"She tried to outfit me for the occasions, and I refused," Hermione explains simply. She hadn't liked the feeling of being used for advertising by someone who hadn't bothered to show the least bit of support for their cause prior to the end of the war. Severus is more accustomed to that, things had been no different after the last war, and he's far more pragmatic.
They debate the pros and cons of accepting such offers as they make their way through the corridors. Hermione feels the winning argument is ultimately that she refuses to accept a witch should need new robes for every such affair when the wizards quite clearly don't. Severus is certainly in no position to object to that logic, although he'd probably have let her win the debate either way as it seems to be distracting her successfully.
They use the staff entrance to the Great Hall, and despite their earliness, two spots at the table are already occupied. As Deputy Headmaster, and as part of the staff's effort to see Severus rehabilitated in the wizarding world's eyes, he had the seat to Minerva's left, but it's taken at present. The two beside it are vacant, and as they come closer, she can see that Neville is sitting in the one next to that.
"Hi, Hermione," the school's youngest Head of House greets her cheerily, patting the arm of the chair beside him in invitation. She turns to look at Severus in confusion.
"I thought you might be more comfortable with Longbottom close by," he whispers as he pulls her chair out for her and takes the seat to her other side.
"Hey, 'ermione. Welcome to the 'igh Table," comes another warm greeting from Severus' right in a very familiar deep rumble.
"Hagrid!" She exclaims, always happy to see her friend. Severus has surrendered his seat next to Minerva to the garrulous half-giant and apparently means to doom himself to sitting beside him for the rest of the school year, all to make her feel more at home...
She finds herself battling a whole range of sappy impulses just at the moment.
"Pomona will take the other seat by... Neville," Severus still struggles a little with using his colleague's first name, but the pause is so slight, Hermione is the only one likely to have noticed. "It seemed advisable to seat the two apprentices together," he explains, as if that were the motivation, but she can't help noticing that unlike Neville, she isn't sitting with her discipline's Professor.
Severus can be such a dear.
The conversation comes naturally, and the table fills bit by bit. Minerva herself is a little late, but by that time Hermione is so engrossed in a discussion with Neville about their duties in class as apprentices that she barely notices. While it doesn't completely take away her nervousness - she does rather peck at her meal - she's far from feeling as alien as she'd feared, and far more importantly, sitting there with Severus at her side in front of the entire school seems the most natural thing in the world.
It's as if she'd done it every day of her life.
The nearly imperceptible smile he gifts her at one point as his forefinger, hidden from view under the table, strokes the side of her thigh in soft acknowledgment reassures her he feels the same way.
Minerva takes her seat at the High Table with a sigh, surveying the Great Hall as she does so. The seating in general is something of a persisting sore point. She and Ms. Granger... - Hermione, now that she's staff - had discussed the necessary reforms in depth and ad nauseam last summer and Minerva had been certain she'd solved, or at least addressed, a great many problems with her plan.
Hardly.
The lack of contact with Muggleborns had both disadvantaged them and helped give rise to prejudice, that much seemed clear. As a half-blood raised in a predominantly Muggle environment - however long ago that may have been - Minerva could see that clearly enough. The emphasis traditionally placed on the Houses rather naturally had meant there was far too little cooperation between them. It was useful, of course, to help integrate the new students, fostering the 'us' versus 'them' mindset leant them a sense of belonging, incentivised the older students to be more accepting of the younger ones, and helped with the newcomers' homesickness, but that convenience had clearly come at the expense of an identity as a whole. That needed to be rectified, and Minerva had seen to it.
Or so she thought.
Hermione, annoyingly, had been less convinced of the efficacy of some of those solutions, and time had unfortunately proven the young woman correct in many of her objections. Presumably it's been too long since Minerva was a student for her to always succeed in seeing things from their points of view, and even there, Hermione was sufficiently removed from the average student that not even the corrections she'd suggested later had always borne fruit. No, students were an intractable lot who simply refused to benefit from the wisdom of the Headmistress' years with a resistance that could almost be admirable were it even slightly less obstructionistic. As things stood, however...
With the start of the second term feast, seating Sunday evening returns to normal, except of course things weren't 'normal' anymore. At the beginning of the school year, they'd placed the students in assigned seats at small tables mixed by House and to a far lesser extent year, and despite the initial outcry, the first meal had gone largely as planned.
That success was fleeting.
In retrospect all too predictably, hindsight is good like that, it hadn't taken the Ravenclaws long to try to regroup at a few tables of their own. By breakfast the next morning, a group of the boys - it's always the boys - had worked out all the prerequisite swaps required to do so, and by lunch there were far too many clusters of exclusively bronze and blue.
That that couldn't fail to attract attention was clear, and by dinner, with a very small handful of exceptions, Minerva had had them back where they belonged.
In answer to complaints that the seating arrangement was insensitive to a number of relationships, both current and - conceivably more problematic - past, the Headmistress finally agreed that they could swap with others in their respective Houses but that was the extent of it. Hmm. Again the same group of students busied themselves with the new rosters, and with suitable pressure applied to their lowerclassmen, soon had arranged to place all their Firsties at the tables with eighth year Slytherins, defending the decision with the logic that they were the only ones who had no prior history with them and thus least affronted, but perhaps more realistically because the first years weren't in any position to defend against the move. In the process, they'd forfeited all benefits the seating scheme offered for integrating the eleven year olds, and obviously there was none of the common ground in terms of coursework for the inter-House cooperation the Headmistress had hoped to foster.
This, too, was soon noticed, of course it was - Hermione had been so good as to pretend that hadn't also been predictable - and once again Minerva had to order them back to their places (pausing only to question why on earth she'd ever left her cushy Ministry job and gone into teaching).
And so the next rules came, swapping 'only with someone in the same year' met with much complaint and soon yielded to 'someone a year above or below', thinking that should do for the relationships, or at least she hoped so. One never knew. (And apropos of nothing, she did not just cast a glance in the direction of apprentice Granger and the Potions Master. Fine, but it was only a quick one.) Within two weeks, the Ravenclaws had again completed a chain of swaps that now had both their Firsties and the Gryffindors' congregated at the eighth year Slytherin tables, and again Minerva had to order them back into their seats. Some aggressive questioning of the Firsties - with which Severus bothersomely declined to help her - and she soon had the names of the key instigators. She sorted things this time by giving them permanent seating assignments, let the world change around them if it wished.
Unfortunately with appropriate inducement it did.
Back and forth they went, she made new rules, the students discovered and exploited the loopholes, and it wasn't until the second month they had finally begun to settle in. There were still very occasional seat swaps, as students worked on projects together, or last minute homework. More typically the changes were driven by relationships that formed or the dissolution thereof; young love was often so fleeting, she couldn't help think with condescension of age, forgetting for the moment the depth of her own feelings in her youth.
While it's certainly not the resounding success Minerva had hoped for, the seating has at least ceased being a daily source of headache. Some days that's probably all one can ask.
Careful to mind all the troublesome restrictions the Headmistress' seating rules place on them - or at least she thinks so, they're frightfully complicated - 'Vati has already taken matters into her own hands well before Lavender arrives at the meal. Her roommate was apparently off on an errand for Professor McGonagall and running a little late. After careful consideration and to some complaint, but then she'd expected that from those ruddy muppets - it would definitely have been easier to swing if Padma were there, except she seems to be running late as well - 'Vati has inverted the Ravenclaws' seating order and swapped two of the seventh years' seats with hers and Lavender's. That gets her friend further away from Ron at least. It's almost ideal, really; she wouldn't want to sit directly across from him either. And watching him eat was enough to put anyone off their feed, surely.
Well, except maybe Lav and Vaisey when the moon were full, but that probably shouldn't count.
It's the start of term feast, and they're back in their usual seats, or would be, had 'Vati not intervened. She doesn't think a week and change or even Zabini are sufficient to make sitting beside Ron bearable for Lav at this point. All in all, 'Vati thinks she's managed this correctly. It makes perfect sense that Lav wouldn't have wanted to go sit somewhere on her own, say. This arrangement is too natural, really. These are the times one needs one's friends. Of course, if Ron were anything like a gentleman, he'd go sit elsewhere, especially because it's more difficult for her and Lavender to move tables together, and even more so if they tried to take Padma with them, which obviously they would.
But then if Ron were anything like a gentleman, he probably wouldn't have cheated on Lav in the first place. Hmm.
Tosser.
Now that Hermione was sitting at the High Table - next to Snape no less, all of which is only slightly less weird than seeing Neville up there since September has been - her seat was free... Ron could have easily taken that. But then 'Vati can see how he might not feel comfortable sitting with Harry and Draco just at the moment. She grins to herself a little cruelly as she takes her seat, throwing dagger glances Ron's way as she waits for Lavender to join them.
If looks could kill, she'd have Avadaed him on the spot.
Lavender and Padma appear together, late for the meal. There were often a few stragglers - Jack Sloper, for instance, was presently hurrying to get to his seat at the table with Seamus, Dean and Fay - but Padma wasn't generally one of them. And since the werewolf attack - at least once she'd overcome her initial fears of appearing in public - Lav certainly wasn't likely to miss any bit of a meal. 'Vati's roommate looks a little confused at the new seating arrangement - Padma quite naturally catches on more quickly and slides into the seat beside the Ravenclaw that had been intended for her - but Lav soon takes the remaining spot, between 'Vati and one of the seventh year Slytherin Chasers. Their tardiness isn't the only thing odd about the two of them, though, except 'Vati is having difficulty placing it, chalking it up to their barely repressed and as yet unexplained excitement.
And then Padma turns to her and, holding her robes demonstratively for her twin to see, shows her the brand new 'Head Girl' badge emblazoning her chest.
'Vati sits there blinking dumbly for a moment, as the realisation hits that this should only make matters with her parents still more difficult. How will she explain not being Prefect when her sister achieved the coveted Head Girl position? But Padma doesn't seem to notice. Instead she's off at a clip, telling her all about how McGonagall had summoned them to the Headmistress' office before the meal to give them the news...
Which is when the 'us' and other plurals register, and Lav relentlessly fills in any other gaps by taking over the narration of the story, quite evidently the other individual comprising that plural pronoun.
And at about this point, as Lav begins chirping on, Parvati finally notices the 'Prefect' badge on her ample chest, which only makes things even worse.
Holy bloody, buggering fuck.
Their parents had sort of accepted that with Hermione in the way, Padma couldn't be Head Girl and Parvati couldn't be Prefect. What the hell is she going to tell them now?
They know Lav. They've known her for years. The girls have been besties practically since their first day of school. Never in a million years will her parents believe Lav is such a exceptional scholastic talent.
Never.
How is she ever going to explain that Lav had beaten her out for the position?
And to make matters worse, not that she thought it was possible at this point, Padma goes on to explain how this is all Lav's doing.
That takes a moment to sink in. When? What? How?
Lav had apparently gone to speak to McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall', Lav corrects; bloody hell, it's like Hermione all over again - and pointed out that now that Hermione had graduated, there was an opening, and after some consideration, McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall' - had then given them their respective positions. Which... When? Or better yet, why?
And without so much as a word to her best friend first.
And after all the consideration 'Vati has shown, for-absolutely-ev-er now, she's honestly a little disappointed that Lav hadn't even discussed the prefecthood with her in advance. No, instead she'd quite evidently come up with her little scheme and gone behind 'Vati's back.
'Vati's little disappointment grows into a fairly substantial one as the other two girls natter on - Who could have seen this coming? Ha ha! Not even Professor Trelawney! - so utterly thrilled with their respective successes that neither registers 'Vati hasn't said a word all meal. Her frustration is finally at the point where it's about to boil over into some choice words of her own, when Fay appears out of nowhere and basically says everything 'Vati had considered and then some.
It's a bit of a relief.
"Who do you think you're kidding, Lavender? As if you're fittest for the job," Comes Fay's opening volley, loud enough to get Ron's attention. He'd spent most of the meal trying to ignore Beater Ritchie Coote's musings as to the future of the Gryffindor team now that Ron had been resoundingly kicked off it, or at least get him to change the subject, and Lav's news had thus far escaped him. Noticing the badge for the first time, he begins to look even more uncomfortable as the ramifications of having to do patrols with his ex sink in. Lav, who has just been waiting for this moment - and observing him rather closely so as not to miss it - doesn't fail to notice and smiles ever so sweetly in reply. He takes her meaning, he knows her too well not to, but if anything her smile only serves to rile Fay and 'Vati further, except Fay isn't the least bit hesitant about expressing it.
No, instead, Fay launches into a brief litany of Lav's perceived shortcomings, some of them probably true, to be fair, but the way she quickly overshoots the mark soon has 'Vati feeling uneasy about initially agreeing with her. When Fay proceeds to assail Lav's academic credentials - which, fine, that bit might be correct, 'Vati certainly tended to agree, opportunely forgetting for the moment that she and Lav have the exact same course schedule - Lav ever so serenely turns on the eighth year Reserve Chaser and so very calmly fires off her Avada retort.
With absolute tranquillity she lays out with perfect clarity how of the seven courses Fay was taking (more than the six either 'Vati or Lav were taking as Fay had been sure to point out), only four could possibly result in a N.E.W.T., if she even managed to pass her exams, unlike the five actual N.E.W.T. courses the other two girls were taking. That weakened Fay's argument, gravely, and it could have ended there, but no, Lav went for the Unforgivable, and explained for everyone sitting at the table how positively sad it was that someone could profess to want to be an Auror, and somehow not quite count up to five, the bare minimum N.E.W.T. requirement for the position. Even Ron, as she was sure to tell everyone, had managed that simple task. (In reply, Ron looks nothing more than like he's in for a bad case of indigestion this evening. If he hasn't got it already, that is.) And even if Ron was only taking five classes in total, tsk - the 'less than any of the girls present were' goes unsaid but decidedly not unheard - at least all of them had the potential to count towards his professed goal. Fay's courses? Not so much. Her career was a non-starter, her goals not even sensibly pursued. Her qualifications? Decidedly lacking. And yet somehow she felt better qualified to be prefect?
Unlikely.
Lav never once raised her voice, and yet the attack was lethal. Fay stands there gulping for air, her face growing redder by the moment, and 'Vati sits there quietly grateful she hadn't said anything either way. Lav is evidently playing for keeps here. This close to the full moon, that probably shouldn't come as such a surprise.
It doesn't take long, and the already angry Reserve Chaser loses her composure utterly and completely. Practically frothing, she indulges in some injudicious name calling, and Padma simply rocks back in her chair, taps her Head Girl badge and perhaps a touch smugly informs her, "Five points from Gryffindor."
"Are you happy now?" Fay shrieks at Lav, and that does seem a little unfair.
Unfortunately 'Vati's "Give it a rest, Fay," only pushes her further over the edge as she now feels everyone has ganged up against her, so more names and more insults follow the first.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Padma responds evenly. "Do you really want to keep going?"
Fay very much looks like she does, thanks, but a little unexpectedly Ron intercedes. Somewhat sympathetically, he addresses his erstwhile teammate, "It isn't worth it, Fay. Things aren't always fair," he adds, taking a shot at his ex in return, "but fighting it just buys you trouble you don't need." His hands go up, indicating himself, and then he shrugs. His inglorious booting from the team is certainly very present in all the team members' minds, and Fay gets his point instantly, her mouth closing so quickly her teeth make an audible 'clack'.
Heavens. Well she definitely doesn't wish to risk that on top of everything else. In a huff so obvious it escapes no one, she turns on her heel and storms from the room, but it's sufficiently dampened the mood that proper conversation doesn't resume except for some grumbling amongst the Slytherins.
The Slytherins are in complete agreement: the Moggies have all clearly lost it. First Longbottom as Head of House, and now this.
Of course they're even less pleased to hear Patil has somehow managed to steal the Head Girl position from their seventh year Ella Wilkins. It had been bad enough when Granger had swooped in and taken it, but at least there there had been academic justification that made the decision more palatable, but this?
"Ella outperformed that Ravenclaw at every turn," Sheldon is quick to point out in hushed tones to his friends. He's irritated enough by this development to stop flirting with the Hufflepuff seated next to him for once. Sheldon has a bit of a reputation he seems frightfully keen to uphold, he'd flirt with a wall if no other options presented themselves. Fortunately at Hogwarts most walls have a variety of portraits to choose from, so that looks a lot less foolish than it might elsewhere.
In response, Pansy just chuckles darkly and tells him he's beginning to sound like Dunbar, not that she doesn't agree, mind, and they're very much aware of it.
Flora, overeager as usual to be reasonable, points out that, "It's probably more a question of thinking the choice needs to be made amongst the oldest students. This year that's the eighth years; it's very likely just that simple."
Val feels that merely proves the thinking is wrong. "If not this year, then when? This is our last year at Hogwarts, too, and aren't we taking precisely the same courses as the eighth years?" Pansy, who'd frankly undeservedly been appointed Head Girl last year - just one of many things most of them are keen to forget - wisely holds her tongue while the others are quick to nod their agreement. "We're in the same classes, for fuck's sake," Val hisses, her point exceedingly valid.
"Language," Pansy whispers back without any venom - habit overcoming her atypical reticence for the moment - readily giving her Housemate a pass due to the phase of the moon, and disinclined to take points from Slytherin at any rate. There were more than enough others willing to do so that she needn't add to their problems.
"And haven't they already had the material last year - at least to some extent? If Ella is still able to outperform Patil despite that," and given they've all seen the girls perform side by side in those shared courses, that fact really isn't in dispute, "then the whole eighth year / seventh year argument shouldn't be a consideration.
"This is theft of the title again, plain and simple." Val was difficult to argue with before the werewolf's attack. Since... And at full moon, there really isn't much point to trying, not that the other three Snakes care to.
No, they're having a lot of difficulty disagreeing.
The four sit there shooting less than friendly glances at the Ravenclaw that don't stop until the meal's end.
Fortunately that comes soon after.
Staff: Professor McGonagall, Slytherins: Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Hestia Carrow, Flora Carrow, Valerie Vaisey, Sheldon Shafiq, Gryffindors: Parvati Patil, Fay Dunbar, Seamus Finnigan, Ron Weasley, Ravenclaw: Padma Patil
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom, Rubeus Hagrid, Pomona Sprout, Slytherins: Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Ella Wilkins, Roísín Rosier, Ava Avery, Gryffindors: Harry Potter, Dean Thomas, Ritchie Coote, Jack Sloper, Others: Fenrir Greyback, Madam Malkin
03 January, 1999. Now that the students are returning from the holidays, what will that mean for a couple of fledgling relationships? And if those relationships hold up under public scrutiny, how will they affect the individuals concerned?
Written with oodles of love for
mywitch and erexen.Originally Published: 2021-09-26 on LJ / DW
Words: 10.2 k
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender Brown (8G, no longer Ron's bit on the side (or anywhere else), she's begun seeing a certain Slytherin instead), Blaise Zabini (8S, highly intrigued by the duality of Lavender's nature), Hermione Granger (recent Hogwarts graduate and Transfiguration apprentice), Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Master, and a great deal happier of late), Staff: Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend), Pansy Parkinson (8S, observant friend), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Flora Carrow (7S, studious but sadly guilt-ridden twin), Valerie "Val" Vaisey (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Sheldon Shafiq (7S, Beater), Gryffindors: Parvati "'Vati" Patil (8G, Lavender's best friend and roommate), Fay Dunbar (8G, Reserve Chaser), Seamus Finnigan (8G fiery Reserve Beater, long time friend of Lavender's), Ron Weasley (8G, Lavender's ex, ex-Keeper, presently seeing Demelza), Ravenclaw: Padma Patil (8R, Prefect)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom (Head of Gryffindor, Herbology Apprentice), Rubeus Hagrid (Care of Magical Creatures Instructor), Pomona Sprout (Head of Hufflepuff, Herbology Professor), Slytherins: Draco Malfoy (8S, Captain, Seeker, Potter's), Gregory Goyle (8S, Beater, gentle giant), Ella Wilkins (7S, Prefect), Roísín Rosier (7S), Ava Avery (6S), Gryffindors: Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker, Draco's), Dean Thomas (8G, Chaser), Ritchie Coote (7G, Beater, ex-Captain), Jack Sloper 7G (ex-Keeper), Others: Fenrir Greyback (werewolf and monster), Madam Malkin (clothier to the wizarding world, or at least Hogwarts)
Previously:
The previouslies are very robust. If you've recently read the Christmas Spirit stories, skip them, if not, no worries, I've got you covered. You can find a links to the individual stories / chapters in the "christmas spirit index" (LJ / DW / AO3).
Hestia Carrow and Val Vaisey suffered similar fates to Lavender's last year - all three young women were attacked by werewolves by day. Predictably, the results have left them incredibly sensitive to the phases of the moon, and considering the lunar calendar, more than a little prickly just at the moment. ACoCE 2
Due to a shortage of staff deemed trustworthy, first year Herbology apprentice Neville Longbottom (of all people) is made Head of Gryffindor at the beginning of the school year. (It's taken some getting used to.) Hermione, having missed her seventh year in favour of the gap year camping trip from hell, condenses the curriculum into a semester, graduates and is about to begin an apprenticeship of her own in Transfiguration. CS
Harry and Draco announce to those at the school over the Christmas holidays that they're seeing one another. Being "out" allows them to spend more time together, which is doing them both a world of good. CS
Severus and Hermione likewise tumble into a relationship over the hols. In a somewhat misguided attempt to keep Harry from being expelled, Hermione - falsely - confesses to setting off a ridiculous number of Whiz-bangs in the school corridors. Minerva won't accept that the young woman would do such a stupid and inconsiderate thing, to say nothing of willingly putting her Transfiguration apprenticeship at risk, and demands Severus perform Legilimency on Hermione in order to clear her name. As a result, he comes to learn the witch has rather strong... feelings for him. When the two fail act on this - to be fair, the revelation takes Severus quite by surprise - the Bloody Baron arranges a convenient Mistletoe trap. (He's proving something of a romantic.) CS Regardless of the circumstances of their beginnings, things are coming along swimmingly for the two of them. HC,S 1&2
The same, however, can't quite be said for Ron. Lavender discovers he's cheating on her - Christmas Eve, no less - and somewhat understandably neglects to provide him with an alibi when he's subsequently - wrongly - accused of setting off the Whiz-bangs. In fact, when he's ultimately suspended from the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the charge, she doesn't even feel the least bit guilty given his abysmal behaviour. Making matters even worse, because apparently he's a glutton for punishment, he's also on the outs with Hermione and Harry for some of his... uncharitable and occasionally outright homophobic remarks. CS He's simply not coping well with the realisation that his best friend is gay, or that both of his closest friends happen to be seeing Slytherins, his prejudices not remotely restricted to sexuality, and Malfoy and Snape clearly being the worst of all possible options.
After learning Ron is cheating on her with Demelza, Lavender unceremoniously dumps him. CS Dean owls Seamus the same night to alert him to that development, and the absent Gryffindor sends his good friend Lavender a bottle of Firewhisky for Christmas to try to help take her mind off things. (Their coping strategies may leave something to be desired...) It's an incredibly rough week, but then Blaise trips into her life (and an inopportunely located statue), and rather unexpectedly, but no less pleasurably, after celebrating a drunken Hogmanay together (thanks to Seamus' whisky), the two have embarked on a very enjoyable fling. ACoCE 2 In light of the tensions in the school, they've elected to keep it to themselves, however, with the exception of Parvati, who pretty much knows most things anyway, but then she's always fancied she was quite good at Divination. ACoCE 5
After laughing at him for walking into a statue ACoCE 1, Lavender tries to apologise to Blaise by teaching him one of her favourite Glamours, an excellent Masking Charm that also has the decided advantage of healing injured tissue. ACoCE 2 Of course she then proceeds to provide him with enough scratches and love bites that he needs it. To be fair, it was a full moon; the werewolf attacked are a mite tetchy, and he'd had precious few objections to offer anyway. ACoCE 3, ACoCE 4a&b
Ever the Slytherin, Blaise suggests to Lavender that with Hermione's graduation, there might be an opportunity for her to become the Gryffindors' eighth year Prefect. He proceeds to neatly present all the arguments why she should have the position instead of her roommates. ACoCE 2 The support goes both ways, as Lavender works to teach him the Patronus Charm, thinking it will help demonstrate to any who might still doubt him that he isn't a Death Eater. Plus they're fun. Oo er. As she herself had needed forever to master the corporeal form of the Charm, progress is perhaps unsurprisingly slow. ACoCE 4b, ACoCE 5
When Theo uses a relatively harmless Restraining Spell while he and Hestia are having sex, the Aurors are automatically summoned to the school thanks to the trace on his wand. The result is nothing shy of humiliating, although Hestia, Severus and Minerva do their level bests to teach the Aurors a painful lesson for the presumption. Mentioned in ACoCE 4b
Sunday, 03 January, 1999
The Morning After the Full Moon
Moments after curfew ends, she must have been waiting, Hestia comes racing into their room and pounces on Theo. Holidays or not, the restrictions prohibiting witches in the boys' dorms at night remain; unsurprising, particularly as the timing of those holidays has shifted greatly over the centuries, and Salazar Slytherin had set them himself. Still, more than one member of his House has found it inconvenient this week alone.
Blaise has had another late night with the Gryffindor he's somehow begun seeing and had hoped to sleep in... So much for that. As it is, he just puts up the Privacy Charm Theo seems presently unable to - if the giggling from behind his bed curtains is anything to go by anyway - filling in for Draco who isn't back yet to do that sort of thing for them. The Seeker has been rather scarce of late. But then on the upside, at least his canoodling with Potter isn't costing his roommates any sleep.
The same can't be said for Theo's little romp.
Zabini pulls a pillow over his head - its usefulness more psychological than practical now that he can't hear them, and far from sufficient either way - tosses and turns for a while and ultimately fails to fall back to sleep. Resigned, he puts on his Glamour - just in case Hestia finishes with Theo or Gregory should wake - and goes to shower. If he takes longer than usual, who can blame him? And if his thoughts wander to a certain Moggie? Also not surprising. He can't help thinking how lucky Theo is that Hestia is a fellow Snake.
He dries himself off and then with a towel wrapped low about his hips, Blaise takes up position before one of the mirrors and sees to his teeth, performs a Spell to clean and polish his nails, another to address that irksome morning stubble that stubbornly insists on reappearing and then finally massages a Jarvey oil product into his scalp. Manually. It's worth the added effort. Once finished, he examines himself again, quite pleased with the results, not that they were in question, but his reflection appears to agree as the thumbs up and broad smile it flashes him would seem to indicate.
With a nod in silent greeting, Hestia passes Blaise on her way in, dressed in nothing but one of Theo's towels, a Sticking Charm evidently holding it in place. Unlike Lavender, she doesn't constantly wear Glamours - in large part because the scars the werewolf had so generously gifted her are limited to her back - and she isn't wearing one now, but it's a sign of trust (and her increased self-confidence) that she's willing to expose them to him as she walks into the bathroom and heads for the showers. She'd come a long way over the course of the first term.
Having developed a special interest in these things over the last couple of days - quite inexplicably, he's sure - he observes those scars now more closely once she's past him. For the first time it occurs to him that they tell a horrifying story of the attack. One set of four deep streaks all the way across her back, the blow that had surely incapacitated her. And then there are a series of marks in the vicinity of her shoulders where the fiend had evidently gripped her, adjusting its hold repeatedly, presumably pinning her down. Yes, there's trust involved in her willingness to display the extensive damage.
Those scars must hurt, too...
Hesitating only briefly, he calls out to stop her before she can disappear behind one of the shower curtains, "Hestia, would you mind letting me try something?"
"Well you can try," she smirks, the latent threat clear. She's notoriously testy this time of month, and no one in their House has forgotten how she dealt with the Aurors recently on a night the moon was nowhere near full, but he's known his teammate too long to worry. Instead he Summons the parchment with the Glamour Lavender had given him and gestures for Hestia to turn her back towards him again. She watches him in the mirror, more from curiosity than unease, and he soon performs the Spell on her, leaving out the modifier for his darker complexion.
"What did you do?" She asks immediately, her tone more impressed than accusatory. It's taken away some of the pain from the scarring, and yet she could swear from the wand movement that had been a Masking Spell of some sort or another. She turns her back towards the mirrors to try to get a better look and is promptly even more impressed with the results. The thing is good.
"It's a new Glamor," he explains and proceeds to elaborate on its potential healing properties. "Who knows, it just might help."
"Nothing helps anymore," she replies, some annoyance beginning to creep into her tone. Were the moon less full, it would have been resignation instead.
Blaise shrugs, "Well at the least it feels nice, it definitely does the job as Masking Spells go, and it might be worth checking to see if it does. Actively heal. What do you have to lose?" He has a point. "Do you have a Charm that would quantify the extent of the scarring?" He asks more softly. He knows how sensitive Lavender is about her scars; he doesn't mean to make Hestia feel less comfortable about her own.
The Chaser shakes her head 'no', "But Theo does.
"And if he didn't, Flora would," she adds a little ruefully. Blaise nods in understanding; her twin wrestles with the guilt that Hestia had been sacrificed to the werewolves. When the Death Eaters had sought to make an example of the girls' parents last year, it was sheer dumb luck they'd taken one sister instead of the other, a thought that weighs on Flora heavily. She and Theo have done everything they could to try to help Hestia recover. If there was a spell or a potion or a salve rumoured to be of use, they'd tracked it down and tried it. As a result, Hestia's back is greatly improved, but the healing has long since stalled. There's been no progress for months now.
"Have him measure it then, would you? It would be good to know if it works. I'll make you a copy of the Spell and leave it with Theo." He pauses, considering, and then continues, "Could you do me a favour? Brown was good enough to find the Charm for me..."
"Brown?" She double checks. "The Moggie?"
"The same," he nods, half daring her to say something.
Full moon or not, she just shrugs. Her curiosity piqued, she then turns to look at her back in the mirror again and with a chuckle asks, "And that worked on you?"
He smirks, because he'd had similar thoughts about the unlikelihood of that succeeding when Lavender had applied it to him. "With a modifier for my skin tone, yes." Hmm.
"At any rate, I owe her one for the effort," he says by way of vast misrepresentation, "and I thought, if you were willing, perhaps you could say something to her to help her understand she isn't alone in dealing with the aftereffects. Of the attacks..." He needn't elaborate, Hestia knows all too well which attacks he means. It occurs to her that while Val has benefited from the research they've done on the effects of such assaults, she hasn't actually spoken with Brown about it. None of them had, to the best of her knowledge.
Start of term, McGonagall had put them all at one table, the wolf girls. They hadn't realised it initially. Flora was seated with them, Val and Hestia had long been friends, and the three were the same year... The seating arrangement had seemed natural enough. Brown hadn't appeared at meals during the first couple of weeks, and in order to sit with Theo, Hestia had traded seats with Pansy before the Moggie finally joined their table. Her condition was obvious as soon as one saw what she ate. Or at least, it was obvious to anyone with a bit of experience, and they now had it in spades.
"Only if you're willing, but I gather she's struggling a bit..." He leaves it at that. Personally, Hestia can't help thinking some of that struggle must be down to the Weasel and their catastrophic falling out last week - Merlin knows Draco had had enough to say about him lately - but doesn't feel the need to comment on some Gryffindor's love life. It might have been tangentially of interest if it had affected Weasley more, but he seemed to have landed on his feet with one of their Chasers, and he wasn't even on the team anymore anyway. She'd as soon spare him no more thought.
"Sure," she nods. "If you'd like me to. I'll try to talk to her at one of the meals." Not that Hestia doesn't have good reason - exceptionally good reason - to keep mostly to their own, but the fact she's less concerned with helping another witch dealing with the same issues just because she's from a different House than she is than with doing a favour for a friend is a good bit of the reason Blaise wouldn't explain his real motivation here. He simply thanks her and leaves, depositing a copy of the Masking Spell for her on Theo's nightstand before he heads to breakfast.
Lavender is chatting happily with 'Vati at breakfast about their fellow students' return later today when one of the Slytherin twins slides into the seat beside her. At a guess, she'd say it's the Chaser, but only because the witch tends to do such frightfully practical but less than appealing things to her hair. As if there weren't perfectly good Charms for that sort of thing, bless. Really, say what one might about Rosier, Snakes - well, except for Blaise, of course - she should have been able to sort that... whatever it was easily. She was rather good at that sort of thing really. As Lavender has never managed Demelza's hair, for what now seem to be all too obvious reasons (but at the time was surely more a matter of potential competition), she wonders fleetingly if Rosier and Carrow are interested in the same wizard.
Hmm.
"Brown," Carrow greets her. Chatty one, isn't she?
"Carrow," Lav replies, feeling just the model of wit. She's not naturally taciturn, but it seems the thing to do. 'Vati tries not to smirk in recognition of her roommate's act.
"Quite the moon last night," Carrow comes unexpectedly to the point. Well, mostly. But Lavender knows just what's meant.
"That is was," she nods, not especially helping the conversation along, but Lav's voice sounds every bit as tight as her expression looks. The Gryffindor really isn't good at hiding things.
Hestia inhales, trying to find some patience. It was never precisely her strong suit to begin with, that was more Flora's thing, and at this phase of the moon, it proves increasingly difficult. Remembering her assurances to Blaise - and of course her back does feel better, even if the witch quite evidently hadn't meant to share the Glamour with her directly - Hestia nevertheless makes an effort and attempts to speak to the superficial Moggie. By now they knew, more or less, what had happened to her during the Battle of Hogwarts.
That fucking monster Greyback.
Brown's 'brave' sacrifice as a combatant had been whispered about the school, and Hestia is certain the woman doesn't receive a fraction of the sideways looks she or Val do, cheers. There might be a bit of resentment behind that thought, and the exceptionally brief conversation that follows probably reflects that. It's awkward. Perhaps if they'd sat at the same table all autumn as the Headmistress had intended it would be less so, but the witches are essentially strangers, and this is a highly personal matter for them both.
When Hestia ultimately settles on emphasising to the Moggie that she isn't the only one dealing with these issues - conceivably less supportive in phrasing than assuring her 'you aren't alone in this' or something along those lines - Lavender unfortunately hears 'you should suck it up and stop feeling so bloody sorry for yourself'. A bit of a stretch, but then she's sensitive about these things, and frankly the Snake has said worse things to Ron while on the pitch. It's all too easy for Lav to believe.
Frustrated, Hestia soon rises and goes to sit with the other Slytherins, and Lavender and Parvati are only too happy to see her go, their conversation not coincidentally shifting to the absolute nerve of some people. How very dare she?
By the time they're finished, Lav's back is well up, sufficiently so that she decides to take Blaise's advice and speak to Professor McGonagall after breakfast about the prefect's position left newly opened by Hermione's graduation. Righteous indignation can be useful like that.
Of course it might have been better if she'd thought to mention it to 'Vati first, especially considering all the other things she has no qualms about unloading on her roommate.
Pansy is just telling the others that something is clearly afoot with Brown when Hestia joins them, taking the free seat beside Theo. Considering the fact Brown had found a Charm modifier for Blaise, the Chaser believes she knows the answer.
"I think she's taken a shine to our good Keeper." Hestia is less given to gossiping than Róisín or Ava, say, and when she makes assertions like that, it carries more weight. A number of heads subtly turn to regard the two Moggies at their table, presently carrying on a heated conversation in which they look their way not once. Still, considering the woman's behaviour from shortly before, a few nod now, deeming Hestia's logic probable. It certainly meshes with Pansy's thinking.
"Poor Blaise," one of the sixth year girls chimes in, a few more agree.
"Perfectly natural," Róisín adds. Blaise is considered an incredibly good catch. Even a silly Moggie should recognise that. And his family had undeniably escaped much of the taint that burdened the other boys in his year. Perhaps not all, the trace on his wand alone proved that, but these days just being designated a Slytherin was problematic enough. It was undoubtedly no coincidence they'd had fewer Firsties than the other Houses this year, a fact that weighs on them all.
Again Blaise finds himself thinking that he has very good reasons not to share his involvement with Lavender even with his friends. The problems facing the relationship don't come exclusively from without his House.
No, he'll be keeping this to himself, cheers.
"Seamus!" Lav cries and races over to her friend, giving him the biggest imaginable hug as the returning students clambering through the portrait hole try to squeeze around them.
Neither notices.
The greeting is a far cry from how she'd begun the last term, hiding in the basements, speaking to no one but the house elves, and not even staying long in their company. She generally doesn't notice the progress she's made, but her closest friends do. So much so that even their friends are aware of the issues, and Dean just smiles and waves at his roommate from across the common room, knowing he probably won't see him until dinner. The teammates have much to discuss.
Lav thanks Seamus effusively for the bottle of Ogden's he'd sent her for Christmas, not that her owl hadn't conveyed her gratitude already, but she's in a much cheerier frame of mind this evening than she was a over a week ago, and of course owls don't relay hugs. That would be silly.
Finally registering the disapproving grunts of their housemates - fine, the location was perhaps less than ideal - Lav drags Seamus off into one of the niches. There the two friends sit curled up on one of the small squashy couches, catching up, which for the most part means Seamus tells her how he'd spent his holidays as Lavender still isn't telling anyone about her, erm, whatever it is with Blaise.
Well, except for 'Vati that is, and then only because she'd guessed.
Eventually they run out of small talk, and Seamus takes her hand gently. "How are you doing, Lav?" He doesn't need to say he means the situation with Ron. They've known each other too long for that.
She'd half dreaded that question, as she feels much better now, really, but how can she explain that without actually explaining it? He takes her inevitable evasions to mean she's worse than he'd hoped after that warm greeting and gives her hand an affectionate squeeze. When she runs out of platitudes and vague observations about relationships and sort of sputters to a stop - she really should have practised what to say - he meets her eyes and solemnly asks, "Would you like me to punch him for you?"
As she'd very much had Blaise on her mind at that moment instead of Ron, that causes a flash of panic, and then she laughs. "No, but thank you ever so for asking." Seamus can be incredibly sweet.
"Are you sure?" He prods, relieved to hear her laugh like that. He hadn't exactly planned on hitting his roommate, but he certainly wasn't opposed to it either. Ron of all people should understand what Lav had been through. Better than most, as Seamus gathers his older brother Bill had had to weather some of the same problems. So to just use her like that... It was dirty pool and no way to treat a friend of his.
"I reserve the right to change my mind," she quips.
"Absolutely," he nods sagely. "That's always a witch's prerogative."
She laughs again, "How lovely of you to recognise that. I was saying much the same to someone else lately." There's something playing about her smile as she says it that has Seamus wondering, but she seems happy, and he isn't one to look gift horses in the mouth. She'll tell him when she's ready, he's sure.
Then Lavender takes him by surprise by asking him what it will mean for the House Quidditch team that Ron's no longer playing for them, and Seamus is off and flying. There've been dozens of owls back and forth all week trying to work out just that, and Jack Sloper was beyond thrilled to be back on the team and re-installed as Keeper to boot. After their ignominious defeat against Slytherin, the general feeling was they really needed to step up their game. Ron hadn't kept much of anything against the Slytherin Chasers' onslaught, their witches were frightfully good, and sentiment is they probably should have made the switch to Jack much earlier. And of course now some of them are wondering if Harry hadn't maybe taken it easier on the Snakes for presently all too obvious reasons.
Lav blinks a bit owlishly, thinking about some of the things Blaise had said regarding the prejudice facing Harry and Malfoy and wonders if that isn't some of what's behind those thoughts, conscious or not. She hadn't noticed it before - why would she have? - but Blaise may just have a point. That's a little worrisome.
Seamus doesn't notice, why would he? For no number of Galleons would he ever have guessed where Lav's thoughts lie or why. When he'd left for the hols she'd been head over heels for Ron, so this? Absolutely not on his list of possible - never mind probable - things. Instead he keeps merrily telling her about the arrangements the team has made and all the plans they have, just pleased she doesn't seem upset when he has to mention Ron now and again for it to make any sense. That's a huge relief. And so he continues in that fashion right up until it's almost time for them to head down for the start of term feast, when Lavender's Tempus chimes.
"Oh!" She exclaims, jumping up and nearly jostling Seamus from his seat. Lav can be overenthusiastic like that, she's just lucky he has so much practice balancing on a broom. "Sorry, must dash. Professor McGonagall asked me to stop by to see her before the meal," and with a flurry of robes and feeling ever so hopeful about the answer she's due to receive, she's off, hurrying for the exit.
Only then does Seamus seek out Parvati's eyes, silently asking if she's made accommodations. The Headmistress' new seating arrangements are really something rubbish, especially in situations like this.
Hermione wipes her palms surreptitiously on her teaching robes, displeased to find her hands are perceptibly clammy. She's nervous, she acknowledges with a sinking feeling. The start of term feast will begin soon, and this will be her first meal taken at the High Table, assuming she can swallow a bite of it that is... Well, it's still her first meal there either way, she supposes, whether she actually eats anything or not... But after six and a half years of sitting amongst the students looking up to it? Yes. Nervous. Decidedly that.
And if that weren't enough to do it, which it definitely is, there's still the matter of where to sit. She bites her lip - nervously, of course - working up the courage to ask Severus about that and annoyed at herself that she hadn't had the pluck to do so before now. Nothing like leaving it to the last minute...
But she's just not sure how to broach the topic.
They're still in his flat - they're practically always in his flat, a fact she loves to itty tiny bits and very nearly as much as his book-filled quarters, thank you very much - for that matter they've barely set toe outside of it this past week and a half. While she isn't too uneasy about the thought of running into the Slytherins on their way to the meal - most of them seemed to have stayed for the hols anyway, and she's had a chance to get used to them - she is a little worried about facing the whole school tonight. Would it be better or worse to be seated together? She really doesn't know. No matter how she looks at it, it feels like this is their first semi-public appearance as a couple, and well, yes, it has her stomach doing even more odd convolutions of its own.
Her agitation impossible to miss, Severus comes up behind her and wraps her gently in his arms. She leans into the embrace and soon he's trailing soft kisses along her neck that have her completely forgetting what she'd wanted to ask him.
"What's wrong, Hermione?" He prompts rather helpfully. Just as well as the chances something would occur to her while he's doing that or that she'd ever entertain the notion of interrupting it were effectively nil.
"Hmm?" She replies with all the focus she can muster and makes him laugh. Would all her problems were that easy to solve.
"What has you worried?" He asks gently. She's relieved when he does that he hadn't tried to guess. She suspects there are a whole host of things she could add to her list to fret about; she certainly hadn't any need of suggestions had she overseen any.
She feels like a Firstie saying it, but finally forces the words out, "I'm not sure where I'm supposed to sit." Severus has the decency to not even smile, so she continues, "Minerva hasn't said anything about it," nor had Severus for that matter, "and the idea of walking in to the Hall filled with students and searching for my seat like a numpty..." Really, all things considered, she'd been better prepared for what would come as a first year. She'd read everything about the Sorting well in advance and had approached things with more confidence than she can presently seem to muster.
"Which is why we're leaving a little early, for one," he kisses her reassuringly.
"I'll still have to wait until everyone is seated to see where she's placed me. It's not like there are place cards," Hermione objects and then blanches. "In fact, arriving early just means I'll have to stand there even longer." She can't believe she's never paid attention to how that's done before. Come to think of it, the new instructors just always seemed to be seated already. Bugger.
"For another," he kisses her again, "I may have taken the liberty of making some arrangements. You're sitting next to me."
It's a huge relief, just the fact he'd thought of it, never mind that he actually wants her there for all to see, except she still isn't certain if it's a good idea. Outside of the protective little bubble the holidays had seemed to offer, she's no longer certain of the advisability of a great many things.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
There's a huff of amusement, as he would hardly have made the necessary arrangements unless he were. "Yes," he replies with the patience of saints, but there's little point in making her more nervous. "Unless you'd plans to end our relationship any time in the foreseeable future, that is," he teases. The note of jest aside, she finds that a source of relief as well, having become sufficiently accustomed to his sense of humour to hear the unspoken reassurance that he most certainly hadn't. She also knows enough not to dignify his teasing with a reply when there are more pressing things to sort.
"You really don't have to, though, Severus. I can probably go sit with Neville." Belatedly it occurs to her perhaps she should have spoken to Minerva on that count.
"Hermione, believe me, everyone is well aware we're a couple." Her heart definitely still skips whenever he says things like that. "Not sitting together will give rise to more talk than if you're seated beside me. And I'd miss you if you weren't," he finishes with another kiss. "At any rate, as I said, I've already made arrangements. If you were to do anything else at this juncture it would be highly inconvenient..." She knows he's teasing, and he's obviously going to such lengths to put her at ease, and she finally begins to relax.
More seriously he continues, "While I believe you'll find things to your satisfaction, if they aren't we can always revisit the issue. Nothing, but nothing is set in stone. I would, however, suggest not doing so in public. It's the sort of thing best arranged in the staff lounge..." He doesn't get to finish as she interrupts with a very enthusiastic kiss, all the tension from before clearly vanished from her posture.
For the life of her she can't imagine being anything less than pleased with whatever he's set up. He seems to have such a good understanding of her likes and needs. Sometimes, like now, even more so than she does.
"Hermione," he finally pulls away, "if we keep this up, we aren't going to be early. I rather thought that would be preferable to making an entrance."
"I'm sorry, you're right, of course..."
"Of course," he nods, agreeing completely, the smug arse.
She bats at his chest and continues, "That was incredibly thoughtful of you..."
"Please tell me that doesn't still come as a surprise..." he interjects with a smirk.
Raising her voice slightly to drown him out, she finishes with an emphatic, "Thank you." She punctuates it with a small kiss to his cheek so as not to get started snogging him again, and then pulls away, righting her clothes. His don't seem in the least disarray, a source of brief frustration until he catches her look and laughs.
"There are Charms for that, witch. We need to look into placing some on your teaching robes. Frankly Madam Malkin should have seen to it already."
Suitably prepared, he gives her a soft look, "Are we ready?" He takes her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
She nods, nibbling her lip slightly despite all the reassurance he offers.
"Would you prefer to take my arm or not?" He asks. "Both options work, both have nearly equal things to recommend them as well as disadvantages, so I thought we'd play that decision strictly by ear and see how you're feeling."
"How early are we?" She replies. There's a slightly timid note to it that doesn't surprise him under the circumstances. He can remember his first meal as faculty vividly. Things hadn't been easy then either.
"Early enough that it won't be too much of a statement. And most of the people we'll encounter en route are Slytherins anyway." As they seem to have deemed the relationship advantageous for the House, they've been nothing but supportive - how typical - so at least there's that.
Her arm snakes through his almost automatically, her residual anxiety on display in the fierceness with which she clings to him. Severus kisses the top of her head affectionately one last time for luck which helps settle her nerves. "Relax," he whispers as he opens the door.
"I'm surprised Madam Malkin hadn't suggested adding such Charms of her own accord. She's always so keen on securing another sale," he tells her, making conversation as the door automagically closes behind them.
"Hmm. I don't think she likes me very much," Hermione answers realistically.
"Why ever not?" He asks, genuinely confused.
Hermione tries not to grin at the notion he's positioning her as irresistible, how funny, and only narrowly avoids teasing him for it. They've decided not to be too demonstrative in public, so it wouldn't do. Generally speaking, public displays wouldn't suit her in the least, but she does have to battle the occasional thoroughly sappy impulse these days.
Truth be told, so does he.
"There were a great number of awards ceremonies after the war. You cleverly managed to miss most of them..." she begins.
"By being comatose in St. Mungo's," he nods sanguinely. They're in complete agreement that that's preferable, presupposing one's life weren't hanging in the balance; Hermione had been rather insistent on that caveat. Now and again Severus feels even then it might be the better option, invariably when he's stuck at such a function.
"She tried to outfit me for the occasions, and I refused," Hermione explains simply. She hadn't liked the feeling of being used for advertising by someone who hadn't bothered to show the least bit of support for their cause prior to the end of the war. Severus is more accustomed to that, things had been no different after the last war, and he's far more pragmatic.
They debate the pros and cons of accepting such offers as they make their way through the corridors. Hermione feels the winning argument is ultimately that she refuses to accept a witch should need new robes for every such affair when the wizards quite clearly don't. Severus is certainly in no position to object to that logic, although he'd probably have let her win the debate either way as it seems to be distracting her successfully.
They use the staff entrance to the Great Hall, and despite their earliness, two spots at the table are already occupied. As Deputy Headmaster, and as part of the staff's effort to see Severus rehabilitated in the wizarding world's eyes, he had the seat to Minerva's left, but it's taken at present. The two beside it are vacant, and as they come closer, she can see that Neville is sitting in the one next to that.
"Hi, Hermione," the school's youngest Head of House greets her cheerily, patting the arm of the chair beside him in invitation. She turns to look at Severus in confusion.
"I thought you might be more comfortable with Longbottom close by," he whispers as he pulls her chair out for her and takes the seat to her other side.
"Hey, 'ermione. Welcome to the 'igh Table," comes another warm greeting from Severus' right in a very familiar deep rumble.
"Hagrid!" She exclaims, always happy to see her friend. Severus has surrendered his seat next to Minerva to the garrulous half-giant and apparently means to doom himself to sitting beside him for the rest of the school year, all to make her feel more at home...
She finds herself battling a whole range of sappy impulses just at the moment.
"Pomona will take the other seat by... Neville," Severus still struggles a little with using his colleague's first name, but the pause is so slight, Hermione is the only one likely to have noticed. "It seemed advisable to seat the two apprentices together," he explains, as if that were the motivation, but she can't help noticing that unlike Neville, she isn't sitting with her discipline's Professor.
Severus can be such a dear.
The conversation comes naturally, and the table fills bit by bit. Minerva herself is a little late, but by that time Hermione is so engrossed in a discussion with Neville about their duties in class as apprentices that she barely notices. While it doesn't completely take away her nervousness - she does rather peck at her meal - she's far from feeling as alien as she'd feared, and far more importantly, sitting there with Severus at her side in front of the entire school seems the most natural thing in the world.
It's as if she'd done it every day of her life.
The nearly imperceptible smile he gifts her at one point as his forefinger, hidden from view under the table, strokes the side of her thigh in soft acknowledgment reassures her he feels the same way.
Minerva takes her seat at the High Table with a sigh, surveying the Great Hall as she does so. The seating in general is something of a persisting sore point. She and Ms. Granger... - Hermione, now that she's staff - had discussed the necessary reforms in depth and ad nauseam last summer and Minerva had been certain she'd solved, or at least addressed, a great many problems with her plan.
Hardly.
The lack of contact with Muggleborns had both disadvantaged them and helped give rise to prejudice, that much seemed clear. As a half-blood raised in a predominantly Muggle environment - however long ago that may have been - Minerva could see that clearly enough. The emphasis traditionally placed on the Houses rather naturally had meant there was far too little cooperation between them. It was useful, of course, to help integrate the new students, fostering the 'us' versus 'them' mindset leant them a sense of belonging, incentivised the older students to be more accepting of the younger ones, and helped with the newcomers' homesickness, but that convenience had clearly come at the expense of an identity as a whole. That needed to be rectified, and Minerva had seen to it.
Or so she thought.
Hermione, annoyingly, had been less convinced of the efficacy of some of those solutions, and time had unfortunately proven the young woman correct in many of her objections. Presumably it's been too long since Minerva was a student for her to always succeed in seeing things from their points of view, and even there, Hermione was sufficiently removed from the average student that not even the corrections she'd suggested later had always borne fruit. No, students were an intractable lot who simply refused to benefit from the wisdom of the Headmistress' years with a resistance that could almost be admirable were it even slightly less obstructionistic. As things stood, however...
With the start of the second term feast, seating Sunday evening returns to normal, except of course things weren't 'normal' anymore. At the beginning of the school year, they'd placed the students in assigned seats at small tables mixed by House and to a far lesser extent year, and despite the initial outcry, the first meal had gone largely as planned.
That success was fleeting.
In retrospect all too predictably, hindsight is good like that, it hadn't taken the Ravenclaws long to try to regroup at a few tables of their own. By breakfast the next morning, a group of the boys - it's always the boys - had worked out all the prerequisite swaps required to do so, and by lunch there were far too many clusters of exclusively bronze and blue.
That that couldn't fail to attract attention was clear, and by dinner, with a very small handful of exceptions, Minerva had had them back where they belonged.
In answer to complaints that the seating arrangement was insensitive to a number of relationships, both current and - conceivably more problematic - past, the Headmistress finally agreed that they could swap with others in their respective Houses but that was the extent of it. Hmm. Again the same group of students busied themselves with the new rosters, and with suitable pressure applied to their lowerclassmen, soon had arranged to place all their Firsties at the tables with eighth year Slytherins, defending the decision with the logic that they were the only ones who had no prior history with them and thus least affronted, but perhaps more realistically because the first years weren't in any position to defend against the move. In the process, they'd forfeited all benefits the seating scheme offered for integrating the eleven year olds, and obviously there was none of the common ground in terms of coursework for the inter-House cooperation the Headmistress had hoped to foster.
This, too, was soon noticed, of course it was - Hermione had been so good as to pretend that hadn't also been predictable - and once again Minerva had to order them back to their places (pausing only to question why on earth she'd ever left her cushy Ministry job and gone into teaching).
And so the next rules came, swapping 'only with someone in the same year' met with much complaint and soon yielded to 'someone a year above or below', thinking that should do for the relationships, or at least she hoped so. One never knew. (And apropos of nothing, she did not just cast a glance in the direction of apprentice Granger and the Potions Master. Fine, but it was only a quick one.) Within two weeks, the Ravenclaws had again completed a chain of swaps that now had both their Firsties and the Gryffindors' congregated at the eighth year Slytherin tables, and again Minerva had to order them back into their seats. Some aggressive questioning of the Firsties - with which Severus bothersomely declined to help her - and she soon had the names of the key instigators. She sorted things this time by giving them permanent seating assignments, let the world change around them if it wished.
Unfortunately with appropriate inducement it did.
Back and forth they went, she made new rules, the students discovered and exploited the loopholes, and it wasn't until the second month they had finally begun to settle in. There were still very occasional seat swaps, as students worked on projects together, or last minute homework. More typically the changes were driven by relationships that formed or the dissolution thereof; young love was often so fleeting, she couldn't help think with condescension of age, forgetting for the moment the depth of her own feelings in her youth.
While it's certainly not the resounding success Minerva had hoped for, the seating has at least ceased being a daily source of headache. Some days that's probably all one can ask.
Careful to mind all the troublesome restrictions the Headmistress' seating rules place on them - or at least she thinks so, they're frightfully complicated - 'Vati has already taken matters into her own hands well before Lavender arrives at the meal. Her roommate was apparently off on an errand for Professor McGonagall and running a little late. After careful consideration and to some complaint, but then she'd expected that from those ruddy muppets - it would definitely have been easier to swing if Padma were there, except she seems to be running late as well - 'Vati has inverted the Ravenclaws' seating order and swapped two of the seventh years' seats with hers and Lavender's. That gets her friend further away from Ron at least. It's almost ideal, really; she wouldn't want to sit directly across from him either. And watching him eat was enough to put anyone off their feed, surely.
Well, except maybe Lav and Vaisey when the moon were full, but that probably shouldn't count.
It's the start of term feast, and they're back in their usual seats, or would be, had 'Vati not intervened. She doesn't think a week and change or even Zabini are sufficient to make sitting beside Ron bearable for Lav at this point. All in all, 'Vati thinks she's managed this correctly. It makes perfect sense that Lav wouldn't have wanted to go sit somewhere on her own, say. This arrangement is too natural, really. These are the times one needs one's friends. Of course, if Ron were anything like a gentleman, he'd go sit elsewhere, especially because it's more difficult for her and Lavender to move tables together, and even more so if they tried to take Padma with them, which obviously they would.
But then if Ron were anything like a gentleman, he probably wouldn't have cheated on Lav in the first place. Hmm.
Tosser.
Now that Hermione was sitting at the High Table - next to Snape no less, all of which is only slightly less weird than seeing Neville up there since September has been - her seat was free... Ron could have easily taken that. But then 'Vati can see how he might not feel comfortable sitting with Harry and Draco just at the moment. She grins to herself a little cruelly as she takes her seat, throwing dagger glances Ron's way as she waits for Lavender to join them.
If looks could kill, she'd have Avadaed him on the spot.
Lavender and Padma appear together, late for the meal. There were often a few stragglers - Jack Sloper, for instance, was presently hurrying to get to his seat at the table with Seamus, Dean and Fay - but Padma wasn't generally one of them. And since the werewolf attack - at least once she'd overcome her initial fears of appearing in public - Lav certainly wasn't likely to miss any bit of a meal. 'Vati's roommate looks a little confused at the new seating arrangement - Padma quite naturally catches on more quickly and slides into the seat beside the Ravenclaw that had been intended for her - but Lav soon takes the remaining spot, between 'Vati and one of the seventh year Slytherin Chasers. Their tardiness isn't the only thing odd about the two of them, though, except 'Vati is having difficulty placing it, chalking it up to their barely repressed and as yet unexplained excitement.
And then Padma turns to her and, holding her robes demonstratively for her twin to see, shows her the brand new 'Head Girl' badge emblazoning her chest.
'Vati sits there blinking dumbly for a moment, as the realisation hits that this should only make matters with her parents still more difficult. How will she explain not being Prefect when her sister achieved the coveted Head Girl position? But Padma doesn't seem to notice. Instead she's off at a clip, telling her all about how McGonagall had summoned them to the Headmistress' office before the meal to give them the news...
Which is when the 'us' and other plurals register, and Lav relentlessly fills in any other gaps by taking over the narration of the story, quite evidently the other individual comprising that plural pronoun.
And at about this point, as Lav begins chirping on, Parvati finally notices the 'Prefect' badge on her ample chest, which only makes things even worse.
Holy bloody, buggering fuck.
Their parents had sort of accepted that with Hermione in the way, Padma couldn't be Head Girl and Parvati couldn't be Prefect. What the hell is she going to tell them now?
They know Lav. They've known her for years. The girls have been besties practically since their first day of school. Never in a million years will her parents believe Lav is such a exceptional scholastic talent.
Never.
How is she ever going to explain that Lav had beaten her out for the position?
And to make matters worse, not that she thought it was possible at this point, Padma goes on to explain how this is all Lav's doing.
That takes a moment to sink in. When? What? How?
Lav had apparently gone to speak to McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall', Lav corrects; bloody hell, it's like Hermione all over again - and pointed out that now that Hermione had graduated, there was an opening, and after some consideration, McGonagall - 'Professor McGonagall' - had then given them their respective positions. Which... When? Or better yet, why?
And without so much as a word to her best friend first.
And after all the consideration 'Vati has shown, for-absolutely-ev-er now, she's honestly a little disappointed that Lav hadn't even discussed the prefecthood with her in advance. No, instead she'd quite evidently come up with her little scheme and gone behind 'Vati's back.
'Vati's little disappointment grows into a fairly substantial one as the other two girls natter on - Who could have seen this coming? Ha ha! Not even Professor Trelawney! - so utterly thrilled with their respective successes that neither registers 'Vati hasn't said a word all meal. Her frustration is finally at the point where it's about to boil over into some choice words of her own, when Fay appears out of nowhere and basically says everything 'Vati had considered and then some.
It's a bit of a relief.
"Who do you think you're kidding, Lavender? As if you're fittest for the job," Comes Fay's opening volley, loud enough to get Ron's attention. He'd spent most of the meal trying to ignore Beater Ritchie Coote's musings as to the future of the Gryffindor team now that Ron had been resoundingly kicked off it, or at least get him to change the subject, and Lav's news had thus far escaped him. Noticing the badge for the first time, he begins to look even more uncomfortable as the ramifications of having to do patrols with his ex sink in. Lav, who has just been waiting for this moment - and observing him rather closely so as not to miss it - doesn't fail to notice and smiles ever so sweetly in reply. He takes her meaning, he knows her too well not to, but if anything her smile only serves to rile Fay and 'Vati further, except Fay isn't the least bit hesitant about expressing it.
No, instead, Fay launches into a brief litany of Lav's perceived shortcomings, some of them probably true, to be fair, but the way she quickly overshoots the mark soon has 'Vati feeling uneasy about initially agreeing with her. When Fay proceeds to assail Lav's academic credentials - which, fine, that bit might be correct, 'Vati certainly tended to agree, opportunely forgetting for the moment that she and Lav have the exact same course schedule - Lav ever so serenely turns on the eighth year Reserve Chaser and so very calmly fires off her Avada retort.
With absolute tranquillity she lays out with perfect clarity how of the seven courses Fay was taking (more than the six either 'Vati or Lav were taking as Fay had been sure to point out), only four could possibly result in a N.E.W.T., if she even managed to pass her exams, unlike the five actual N.E.W.T. courses the other two girls were taking. That weakened Fay's argument, gravely, and it could have ended there, but no, Lav went for the Unforgivable, and explained for everyone sitting at the table how positively sad it was that someone could profess to want to be an Auror, and somehow not quite count up to five, the bare minimum N.E.W.T. requirement for the position. Even Ron, as she was sure to tell everyone, had managed that simple task. (In reply, Ron looks nothing more than like he's in for a bad case of indigestion this evening. If he hasn't got it already, that is.) And even if Ron was only taking five classes in total, tsk - the 'less than any of the girls present were' goes unsaid but decidedly not unheard - at least all of them had the potential to count towards his professed goal. Fay's courses? Not so much. Her career was a non-starter, her goals not even sensibly pursued. Her qualifications? Decidedly lacking. And yet somehow she felt better qualified to be prefect?
Unlikely.
Lav never once raised her voice, and yet the attack was lethal. Fay stands there gulping for air, her face growing redder by the moment, and 'Vati sits there quietly grateful she hadn't said anything either way. Lav is evidently playing for keeps here. This close to the full moon, that probably shouldn't come as such a surprise.
It doesn't take long, and the already angry Reserve Chaser loses her composure utterly and completely. Practically frothing, she indulges in some injudicious name calling, and Padma simply rocks back in her chair, taps her Head Girl badge and perhaps a touch smugly informs her, "Five points from Gryffindor."
"Are you happy now?" Fay shrieks at Lav, and that does seem a little unfair.
Unfortunately 'Vati's "Give it a rest, Fay," only pushes her further over the edge as she now feels everyone has ganged up against her, so more names and more insults follow the first.
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Padma responds evenly. "Do you really want to keep going?"
Fay very much looks like she does, thanks, but a little unexpectedly Ron intercedes. Somewhat sympathetically, he addresses his erstwhile teammate, "It isn't worth it, Fay. Things aren't always fair," he adds, taking a shot at his ex in return, "but fighting it just buys you trouble you don't need." His hands go up, indicating himself, and then he shrugs. His inglorious booting from the team is certainly very present in all the team members' minds, and Fay gets his point instantly, her mouth closing so quickly her teeth make an audible 'clack'.
Heavens. Well she definitely doesn't wish to risk that on top of everything else. In a huff so obvious it escapes no one, she turns on her heel and storms from the room, but it's sufficiently dampened the mood that proper conversation doesn't resume except for some grumbling amongst the Slytherins.
The Slytherins are in complete agreement: the Moggies have all clearly lost it. First Longbottom as Head of House, and now this.
Of course they're even less pleased to hear Patil has somehow managed to steal the Head Girl position from their seventh year Ella Wilkins. It had been bad enough when Granger had swooped in and taken it, but at least there there had been academic justification that made the decision more palatable, but this?
"Ella outperformed that Ravenclaw at every turn," Sheldon is quick to point out in hushed tones to his friends. He's irritated enough by this development to stop flirting with the Hufflepuff seated next to him for once. Sheldon has a bit of a reputation he seems frightfully keen to uphold, he'd flirt with a wall if no other options presented themselves. Fortunately at Hogwarts most walls have a variety of portraits to choose from, so that looks a lot less foolish than it might elsewhere.
In response, Pansy just chuckles darkly and tells him he's beginning to sound like Dunbar, not that she doesn't agree, mind, and they're very much aware of it.
Flora, overeager as usual to be reasonable, points out that, "It's probably more a question of thinking the choice needs to be made amongst the oldest students. This year that's the eighth years; it's very likely just that simple."
Val feels that merely proves the thinking is wrong. "If not this year, then when? This is our last year at Hogwarts, too, and aren't we taking precisely the same courses as the eighth years?" Pansy, who'd frankly undeservedly been appointed Head Girl last year - just one of many things most of them are keen to forget - wisely holds her tongue while the others are quick to nod their agreement. "We're in the same classes, for fuck's sake," Val hisses, her point exceedingly valid.
"Language," Pansy whispers back without any venom - habit overcoming her atypical reticence for the moment - readily giving her Housemate a pass due to the phase of the moon, and disinclined to take points from Slytherin at any rate. There were more than enough others willing to do so that she needn't add to their problems.
"And haven't they already had the material last year - at least to some extent? If Ella is still able to outperform Patil despite that," and given they've all seen the girls perform side by side in those shared courses, that fact really isn't in dispute, "then the whole eighth year / seventh year argument shouldn't be a consideration.
"This is theft of the title again, plain and simple." Val was difficult to argue with before the werewolf's attack. Since... And at full moon, there really isn't much point to trying, not that the other three Snakes care to.
No, they're having a lot of difficulty disagreeing.
The four sit there shooting less than friendly glances at the Ravenclaw that don't stop until the meal's end.
Fortunately that comes soon after.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-25 11:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-09-27 11:25 am (UTC)