"interconnected part 2" by gingerbred
Oct. 3rd, 2021 06:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
christmasspiritHermione Granger / Severus Snape, Harry Potter / Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott / Hestia Carrow
Slytherins: Flora Carrow, Gryffindors: Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom, Professor McGonagall, Slytherins: Blaise Zabini, Roísín Rosier, Valerie Vaisey, Gryffindors: Jack Sloper, Ginny Weasley, Others: Sunny, Crookshanks
03 January, 1999. Well, they've survived their first meal now that the rest of the students have returned. Bring on the aftermath!
Written with oodles of love formywitch and erexen.
Originally Published: 2021-10-03 on LJ / DW
Words: 8.1 k
Rating: Mature
Warning: One of the characters is an intolerant bellend and uses offensive language in this chapter. There's also some latent misogyny on display in how another character's actions are viewed. As intolerance is a theme in this story (and frankly all too likely), realistically we need to go there. We won't dwell on the negative beyond trying to make some of those characters less of a caricature. Hate and intolerance really don't deserve voices. ❤️
Characters: Hermione Granger (recent Hogwarts graduate and Transfiguration apprentice), Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Master, and a great deal happier of late), Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker, Draco's), Draco Malfoy (8S, Captain, Seeker, Potter's),
Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend, Hestia's), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Flora Carrow (7S, studious but sadly guilt-ridden twin), Gryffindors: Seamus Finnigan (8G fiery Reserve Beater, long time friend of Lavender's), Ron Weasley (8G, Lavender's ex, ex-Keeper, presently seeing Demelza), Dean Thomas (8G, Chaser)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom (Head of Gryffindor, Herbology Apprentice), Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Slytherins: Blaise Zabini (8S, highly intrigued by the duality of Lavender's nature), Roísín Rosier (7S), Valerie "Val" Vaisey (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Gryffindors:, Jack Sloper 7G (ex-Keeper, ex-teammate), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser, presently seeing Neville) Others: Sunny (Severus' loyal little House Elf), Crookshanks (Hermione's furry little roommate and half-Kneazle)
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).
Probably because he didn't have Hermione on his back lobbying for a return to seventh year - although it had helped that he'd been there for most of his - Neville elected to take the school up on its offer and began a Herbology apprenticeship. Being named Gryffindor's Head of House came as a greater surprise - to everyone - but Minerva can be awfully convincing. CS
Unable to endure the restrictions being a student entails any longer, Hermione sits her N.E.W.T.s early at the end of the first term, and embarks on an apprenticeship with the school's new Transfiguration professor. CS
Shortly before Christmas, Theo gets a little carried away while fooling around with Hestia, forgets the trace on his wand and uses a Restraining Spell that soon has the Aurors appearing in the Slytherin dorms in force. The results are perfectly mortifying, and he's unlikely to forget the trace again anytime soon. Mentioned in ACoCE 4b
Severus and Hermione 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 doesn't believe it, 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. CS Regardless of the circumstances of their beginnings, things are coming along swimmingly for the two of them. HC,S 1&2
When suspicions are then considered confirmed that Harry detonated the Whiz-bangs, Draco comes forward and provides him with his alibi, in the process revealing to those at the school over the Christmas holidays that they're seeing one another. They hadn't meant to go public, but it seems preferable to the alternatives. CS
Suspicion finally lands on Ron, and as Lavender has just learned he's cheating on her with Demelza, she refuses to give him an alibi. In punishment, he's removed from the Quidditch team and given a great deal of detention. Making matters even worse, Neville is the one to do so, and that comes right on the heels of Ron's learning the Herbology apprentice is seeing Ginny. He's not best pleased. Jack Sloper, who'd been perfunctorily removed from the team when Ron rejoined after being absent his seventh year CS, is now tapped to become the Keeper once more. I 1
Having remained at Hogwarts for Christmas, Dean immediately owls an absent Seamus about the developments with Ron so his friend can see to Lavender. ACoCE 1 And of course it's vital to discuss what to do with the team in light of Ron's suspension... A great deal of mailing ensues. I 1
Blaise applies the Glamour Lavender taught him to Hestia's scarred back Sunday morning. The thing works a treat, and it apparently has some healing properties, too. I 1
Hermione is already a few steps into Severus' quarters when she hears the door fall to behind him. She's headed for his couch and fully expects him to follow her, so she's surprised to feel one of his long-fingered hands take her arm in a firm grip instead, and even more so when he spins her around, pressing her against the reassuringly solid surface of that now closed door. She's still more surprised when he follows up by kissing her so fiercely she's left wringing for breath.
Holy cricket.
Of course, a fair bit of that effect is psychological, but that doesn't make the breathing any easier.
"You were fantastic," he assures her.
Slightly oxygen deprived, that's probably it, she briefly has to wonder when and at what, until things fall back into place for her and she realises he means at the meal.
She laughs at herself.
She's grown confident enough about what her kisses do for him - and isn't that a thrill - but doesn't think they quite warrant a 'fantastic'. Yet. There's a brief flash of thought about what it might take to earn an 'O' from the man that brings something heated to her expression and leaves Severus conflicted about swearing off the constant Legilimency.
Minx.
It continues to amaze him just how well she'd recognised their suitability while his head was still firmly stuck... in a book. He owes her a great deal for having the courage to envision a future together. His happiness, in point of fact.
With a fair sight more gentleness, he tucks one of her errant curls behind an ear and kisses the top of her head affectionately, before shaking off the sentimentality.
The goal here had been to reassure her that she hadn't bungled their first public appearance before the school, and he needs to focus. Fine, her nerves were in evidence, but not glaringly so. She'd been calm and confident in their interactions, and yet there'd been nothing too overt. Any excitement was more than legitimate given it was her first meal amongst staff.
She was perfect.
Again he has to quash the sentimental response.
Positive reinforcement. He means to see she comes to enjoy the meals, and he has a number of ideas as to how to go about it. Trailing a few kisses along her neck is generally a good start...
Of a certainty, students the castle over are presently owling home to alert their families to the new developments. It was unavoidable. Thus far he and Hermione had been lucky. The overwhelming presence of Slytherins over the holidays had helped nontrivially to normalise both their relationship and Draco's with Potter. As long as everything seemed normal, in the artificial safety both the occasion and circumstances afforded, they'd been relatively protected. Even those less generous of spirit hadn't questioned it too much. It was Christmas, after all, and the relationships were evidently practically snooze-worthy developments to boot. Quite literally: nothing to write home about. Now that their Housemates have returned, newly confronted with the facts, they were almost assuredly likely to reinforce one another in less... charitable reactions.
He's seen it before.
When he'd returned to the school upon his release from St. Mungo's - and custody - late last summer, he'd been met by a smaller and more sympathetic group in possession of a better understanding of what his role in the war had been, what he'd sacrificed... There was a... marked difference between his welcome then contrasted with the start of the term when the reception was decidedly... cooler.
Well the summer had helped him better prepare for it, so there was that. He'd been almost ready when the Howlers and press came. Occlusion had naturally done for the rest. Useful skill, that. His appointment as Headmaster the year before - so shortly on the heels of Albus'... murder - had been only marginally better received. That was presumably the only thing to be said for Voldemort's reign of fear, it did tend to mute the outcry.
On the other hand, it had also helped that he'd been mid-mission at the time. That had a way of distracting one, keeping one's attention focused elsewhere. Last autumn, he'd had an unfortunate propensity to... wallow instead.
Hmm.
Well things are different now. He's different now. And having Hermione in his life changes so much more.
He's confident they've made the best of this they could tonight. There was little they could have improved upon, and frankly that little simply hadn't been achievable given the witch's disposition, which he wouldn't change for the world. (A decidedly affectionate kiss punctuates that thought before he resumes the more languid ones in the vicinity of her ear. She does rather like those.) Or at least, it hadn't been achievable shy of employing a Draught of Peace, which seems a bit overkill for the purpose... No, they can manage on their own.
Truthfully, he's rather pleased with how things went.
Realistically, Draco and Potter had attracted more attention than they had, which took some doing as the staff were far more prominently on display. But then Potter was rather given to making a spectacle of himself. Objectively, it had only been a small peck to Draco's cheek as they took their seats - a simple buss; Potter probably thought it advisable to publicly acknowledge the nature of their relationship, considered it nothing more than a trifling display of affection - but that simply isn't the way it was seen.
With a pang of guilt, Severus wonders if he should have spoken to Draco in advance about how to best manage the meal... But then it's nothing his godson doesn't know, after all.
Still, sometimes one needs to be reminded of things, even when they should be obvious. Merlin knows, Hermione does that for him all the time. It's surprising how many basic things about life he seems to have forgotten over the years. How to simply enjoy himself first and foremost amongst them, and how obvious was that?
No, a few words in Draco's ear might not have gone awry.
Speaking of ears... He represses a sigh as he stops nibbling on Hermione's decidedly more delectable lobe, pleased to hear her panting when he does. Yes, that is a welcome response. Unfortunately he still has some things he needs to prepare for class tomorrow, and if he continues here, there's little chance he'll be able to see to them. He's accustomed to sacrifices, duty and all that rot, but this he feels more acutely. He's briefly tempted to say 'dash it all' and take the witch to bed.
How irksome that he's a fundamentally responsible wizard.
Irksome indeed.
And the witch seems in perfect agreement once it becomes clear he probably doesn't mean to continue. Her eyes flash momentarily in that fiery way of hers he likes so much. So much, in fact, it has him weighing the options again briefly, but they're both saved from their baser instincts when her stomach rumbles.
Hermione pinks, as that is a mite embarrassing given they've only just returned from the meal.
"I didn't eat much," she feels pressed to explain.
"I'm aware," he answers with a soft smile. "Shall we have Sunny bring you something?"
As his house elf brings the most magnificent things, she'd have difficulty refusing the offer even if she weren't hungry. The friendly little creature has kept them amply and excellently fed the past week and a half. She'd quite regretted returning to the regular meals in the Hall.
"You could join me in the lab," he offers, the very sound of which is both exciting and touch daunting. The idea of eating in his lab is unheard of.
Her hesitancy answers for her. "Hermione, for goodness sake, there are Charms for that." Which obviously there were, and yet he generally still wouldn't risk it, but he hates the idea of being without her company. He won't be able to see her for much of tomorrow, and somewhat oddly he's begun to viscerally anticipate that loss.
Of course it helps that he only needs to do some chopping to prepare ingredients for class, and nothing particularly sensitive at that.
She doesn't need him to ask again, they've soon summoned the elf and placed an order - Sunny does manage to squeeze in a reproach that Severus hadn't saved some room for a meal of his own; Severus, only too accustomed to his elf, simply ignores it - and she cheerily follows the Potions Master into his private lab.
There have been some updates to the curriculum, always a little problematic in subjects that haven't seen any significant changes in decades if not centuries, and Minerva had decided that a focus on predominantly beneficial potions was to be recommended, and that those with more... questionable applications were best avoided. Sound in principle, he's always felt much the same about being required to teach a Love Potion, say (and had spent the subsequent weeks constantly testing the school's food and drinks), but the issue wasn't always the result so much as it was a question of the skills required to brew the damn things. And to make matters worse, the requirements for both the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s hadn't changed one iota. It was all well and good believing Healing Potions were preferable material, especially as they were, but if the class hadn't the requisite proficiency to prepare the ingredients, to say nothing of managing the actual brewing processes themselves... The alterations meant he was stuck now chopping some of the ingredients for his first class tomorrow so they'd be in a position to brew at all, and the seventh and eighth years would doubtless struggle - more than usual - with the Carnivorous Calendula tomorrow.
Merlin, he misses having Hermione in that class.
Which is stupid. Utterly. For no number of Galleons would he be willing to have her back there again as opposed to in his bed. He's an idiot, and wishes his thoughts wouldn't drift there now and again.
He'll most likely get over it in time.
Hermione settles in quietly on the stool by the sink and watches him get to work, fond, as always, of seeing those hands demonstrate their expertise so elegantly. It's different, too, now that she's come to think of those hands as 'hers'. Once he has everything in place - the amounts carefully calculated, the tools and necessary storage at the ready - he begins to explain why he presently has the pleasure of preparing things in advance. He likes that she'd waited for him to do so, so as not to risk disturbing his concentration. She's considerate that way. It's... nice that she respects his work. It leaves him feeling more... hopeful about how they might function as a couple now that classes were resuming. Not that he'd doubted her, she was far too sensible by nature, and thus far they'd been able to address any issues - and there were precious few - directly. A word or two, and generally they'd made accommodations immediately. That was all it took.
The pre-prepared ingredients were a change she'd noticed occasionally as a N.E.W.T. student, except she'd wondered if that wasn't due to their more advanced curriculum. He assures her it's become all too common now; he's readying materials for select potions in all seven years of the course.
Sunny brings her meal, and Severus places a variety of protective Charms to ensure his ingredients and work surfaces don't become contaminated and vice versa. When she still seems uneasy, he laughs. "How do you imagine I prepare the next ingredients? If I couldn't rely on the Spells to properly clean, where would I be?" Eminently sensible, naturally.
"And yet you don't eat in your laboratory?" She teases between bites.
"Merlin, no. That's the height of idiocy. Best practices...."
She laughs, and he looks a touch chagrined. "I wanted your company," he admits, and she beams. So strangely, he's coming to have fewer and fewer issues making admissions like that. She finishes her meal as he works, and when she's done and the elf has Banished her dishes, she offers to help the Potions Master with his preparations as she has none of her own for tomorrow.
He enjoys watching her chop the roots. He wonders sometimes, no matter how he's come to feel about the witch, if he would be capable of feeling that way were she less competent. It's difficult to separate the woman from her attributes, and the point is rather moot. He likes the witch because of who she is. The sum of who she is.
Once their chore is completed, they package the roots for the morning and tidy up the lab. There's something nice about the way they so seamlessly complete each other's actions, very little explicit coordination is required, and what there is of it is all very practical and much to his satisfaction. The witch always has her wits about her, he likes that. Noxxing the sconces, they return to his sitting room where she goes to take a seat before the fire in his lounge, her half-Kneazle already greeting her in anticipation with a purr from its basket by the hearth, but Severus stops her.
"Would you mind giving me your wand? I need to key it to the wards," he tells her simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
They've been seeing each other for ten days now. Almost exactly 240 hours. Not that she'd been counting, of course... Fine, she had, but then the maths for the tenth evening were fairly easy... Somewhere in the back of her mind there was always this risk he might come to his senses and decide seeing one another wasn't to his liking, or worse - because there's less she can do about it - that it just wasn't worth the hassle the wizarding world would almost definitely be sure to make it. So this, keying her wand to his wards on the eve of the semester's begin?
Huge.
Monumental.
He's not even waiting to see how things go. And she's worried he feels he has to do this.
They've spent almost the entirety of their time together... together. She'd hardly left his side. He'd had a meeting with Minerva prior to the students' return to make plans for the coming term - the fruit of which saw him chopping roots this evening - and she'd slept through part of that in his magnificent bed and then spent the rest reading in his lounge, waiting for him to finish. She hadn't needed her wand keyed, because she hadn't been out and about without him. They'd gone to the library together, because of course they had; anything else would have been unnatural. She had almost everything she required in her beaded bag, anyway, and Sunny had cheerily fetched the few books from her room that she hadn't. And when she'd Flooed back for Crooks, well for one thing Severus had gone with her, and for another he'd merely had to drop the wards on his fireplace.
"You don't have to you know," she replies - probably foolishly - instead of just handing the wand over.
"Of course I don't have to. I want to. Unlike Transfiguration, the clean up after a Potions class can take some time and sadly isn't predictable." Well, it was somewhat predictable, in that mistakes were all but guaranteed, but the students never ceased to surprise him with the extent to which some things went wrong. "We can't have you waiting in the corridors while I have them scrape cauldron rests from the ceiling."
"I can always wait in my room," she offers, referring to her new apprentice's digs. "You can Floo when you're..." 'Ready' is the definitely the wrong word, and feels - far - too much like a booty call. 'Home' suggests he'd need to do so immediately, that he isn't entitled to time or space to himself... Just because they've been virtually inseparable until now doesn't mean they need to continue in this fashion.
He smiles when he sees her struggling to find the right word and thinks he understands why. It only serves to make him more certain this is the right thing to do. The more natural things seem, the more natural they become. He would no more have her begin to doubt aspects of their arrangement than he'd deliberately increase any awkwardness that was almost sure to give rise to more public censure. Never provide them with a toehold. The easier he can make this... well, the easier it will be, by definition.
"If you're comfortable with it, you can have my den to work," he offers. He has his office next door anyway, and now that it isn't necessary to keep his undertakings from two opposing parties, the study is very nearly redundant. Fine, it was a nicely appointed room, but there's no reason that shouldn't benefit the witch. "Unless you'd prefer to work at yours," he adds quickly, not liking to presume, when she still fails to produce her wand.
He knows perfectly well her studio quarters aren't a patch on his. He'd sweetly offered to stay with her there when she said she needed to spend some time with Crookshanks. It hadn't taken them long to decide the better solution was having all three of them at his instead. Sunny had made it abundantly obvious that he approved whole-heartedly. He adored having two extra (and less resistant) beings to lavish attention on, Crooks is far too sensible (and feline) to object to that sort of treatment, and the elf and the half-Kneazle seem to be getting on like a house on fire as a revolving assortment of newly fashioned Kneazle toys silently attest.
"But then you'd be forced to transport Crookshanks back and forth. Or leave him alone longer..." he adds, still trying to win her over.
Independent of their relationship and the obvious advantages more time with him provides, she's never really had a chance to work in her new room and hasn't developed a preference for doing so. They have more space here - a far nicer space, too - and it's incredibly flattering to think he doesn't mind leaving her alone with all his books...
At this point she's reaching to retrieve her wand before he can re-evaluate. She can always spend more time in her quarters down the line if she thinks he's feeling crowded, but this might not be an offer he repeats any time soon.
It's the matter of moments, and yet it feels like everything has changed. He hands her back her wand and folds her into his arms, or maybe she does the folding, it's become hard to tell. "Come back here after class tomorrow," he says, it's half a request. "Set up in the den, it's all yours. Or on the dining table if you need more space." Regrettably now that term has begun, they're unlikely to need it much for meals moving forward. "I'd miss you if you didn't," he assures her, cementing her plans for tomorrow as easily as that.
Finding words inadequate, she takes his hand and leads him towards the bedroom. There's nothing wrong with retiring early now and again.
Of course, the question remains how much rest they'll get despite the earliness of the hour.
Accustomed by now to their humans' behaviour, the elf and half-Kneazle don't even spare it a thought. Sunny conjures a colourful ball of feathers he proceeds to float above the feline's basket, Crooks enjoys lazily attempting to bat it about. When he succeeds in landing a solid hook that sends it sailing across the room, the elf gleefully casts a spell to fetch the toy and their game soon resumes from the top.
Say what one will about the Potions Master's highly redeeming qualities - and Sunny invariably has much to say about those - the man has never seen the need to throw toys about for the elf to retrieve.
"Well that went better than expected," Harry tells Draco once the door to the Room of Requirement shuts behind them.
Draco snorts. Potter is delusional. Or just not very good at predicting things. Or a liar, because the Gryffindor isn't overly pessimistic by nature. Not these days anyway. No, that would be Draco's role, and his dark haired lover is encroaching on it.
He gives the boy a kiss and then sighs. It's no coincidence that the Room provides them with armchairs instead of a bed. The bed will surely come, but for the moment the chairs are more appropriate.
"We should have prepared," Draco tells him as he settles into one, quietly kicking himself that he hadn't seen to those preparations himself. Things were still too new, and he wasn't used to... Well, any of this. Harry hadn't seemed to feel the situation required planning, and Draco isn't quite comfortable enough to boss Harry around.
Yet.
This will probably go a way to seeing that he becomes more so, but perhaps not sufficiently, and definitely not tonight.
"Probably wouldn't have changed much," Harry answers pragmatically. He's used to being on the receiving end of all sorts of unwanted attention. He ignores it. By and large that works. "Anyway, it was fine."
"What precisely? The response to a Gryffindor seeing a Slytherin..."
"Oh, well, to be fair, 'Mione and Snape took the brunt on that count..."
"Or the Chosen One seeing a Death Eater..."
"You aren't a Death Eater..." Harry tries to object, but Draco merely rolls up his left sleeve to expose the Dark Mark demonstratively as he continues.
"Or the fact you're a 'poof'? We're 'poofs'?" Draco concludes.
It probably says something that Harry now hears that word in Ron's voice in his head.
Both boys do.
"I'm sorry," Draco apologises, sensing just where Harry's thoughts have turned. "I'm not satisfied with how I handled this and shouldn't take it out on you. I should have..."
Frankly, Draco isn't really sure what he should have done, just that something had needed doing and he'd done... nothing. But then that's all he and his family have been able to do for so long now. Nothing. They just sat there, idle, hopeless and defenceless, and watched it all inexorably crash over them like a tidal wave. They may as well have tried to stop the ocean as the past year.
"Draco, this is nothing we didn't expect. This is nothing we aren't used to." The Slytherin doesn't quite agree. Merlin knows, society had demonstrated a ready willingness to take their pound of flesh from the Malfoys these past months. If he's fair - he can be - he can almost understand that. His family was better situated, well, had been better situated than most. The rabble had rejoiced at their fall, made their general animosity amply clear, and had been only too happy to take whatever potshots at his family they could. That's human enough, he supposes. Hardly something that should have been unexpected at any rate. But off some of the noises he'd heard tonight, their fellow students' reactions... No, no this is going to be something else. It felt... personal. As if Draco alone had somehow... sullied their saviour, and they do not approve.
He imagines they're going to tear him apart at the seams.
They'll definitely be baying for blood anyway.
He sighs just thinking about it.
Homosexuality wasn't unheard of, naturally, that would be absurd. And things could have been worse for them, so there's that. To the best of his knowledge, were they amongst Muggles, charges might be brought. At least they hadn't Azkaban to fear as long as they conducted their relationship at Hogwarts, instead of Little Whinging, say. But in their society, in the wizarding world, homosexuality wasn't publicised either. 'Confirmed bachelor', and all that...
That lack of acceptance was all part of the reason Draco hadn't wished to go public in the first place. Well, that, and all the publicity he'd already weathered of course.
But it was that or stand silently by and watch Potter be expelled from the school. In order to keep their relationship hidden, he could never have consented to the Legilimency that had cleared Granger, and that would have been that. Draco would have felt too much of a coward letting his lover take the fall for something he hadn't done just to protect their privacy. It wasn't that the Chosen One wouldn't land on his feet, Potter always seemed to, and Merlin knows, he had opportunities and offers owling in every day. But despite all those options, Potter... Harry had chosen the Slytherin, the second greatest pariah at the school save Severus.
That alone merited some courage in response.
And Draco would have gone round the twist were he unable to see him every day.
Either way, the decision is made, and they need to deal with the fallout. The blonde makes a few more half-hearted and ultimately fruitless attempts to explain why they need to manage things better in the future. Harry stubbornly continues to disagree, thoroughly convinced of the futility and disinclined to dwell. If there's one thing he's learnt these past few years: life's too short for that. Eventually Draco accepts that he isn't swaying Harry in the least, he's simply souring his mood, and if Draco keeps this up, he's likely to ruin their night. Finally he apologises again, and the room - completely lacking in subtlety, how Moggie in nature - conjures a bed for the young men.
Harry doesn't need to think twice, he merely laughs, and pulling off the Slytherin's clothes, he drags his boyfriend to bed. Infatuated though he might be, Draco would probably still argue that that's one of Harry's defining characteristics - the Gryffindor seldom thinks twice.
Nevertheless, Draco's reluctance fades in the face of Harry's smile - it is rather special - but he can't help an accompanying thought that they should probably enjoy themselves while they can.
Since Neville no longer resided with them... Neville, Head of House, and banging Ron's sister, too! None of those things will ever not be odd. But since Neville had moved out, the remaining four lads had a tendency to talk Quidditch, even more than in years prior. It made sense; up until a little over a week ago, they'd all been on the team.
Tonight it was talking about that, or Ginny, who seems to have now mostly worked her way through the room, oo er, and after Seamus had made one - seriously just the one - evidently inopportune and very poorly received remark on the way back from dinner to avow his disinterest in the witch - just to make it clear he wouldn't be next in line; for some reason he'd briefly thought that was funny - he's come to realise the topic isn't likely to be well received by any of his roommates.
So Quidditch it is, even if they're down to just three of them this evening. Harry had disappeared off with Malfoy long before they reached the portrait hole. Which, yeah, a little strange, and a kind of ballsy move, but that was Harry for you, so whatever.
Frankly, the inadvisability of joking about Ginny probably should have been obvious from the outset, Seamus now accepts that. Dean and Harry were both likely to be tetchy as her exes, and Ron was always a bit of a knob about the girls, plus of course her brother, which was probably more relevant in the present constellation... But the whole thing with her and Neville was just so... new, it had temporarily shorted Seamus' better judgment, which might not always be in the greatest supply to begin with.
Malfoy and Harry, sure, weird, but everyone had mentioned them, it was old news by now - although seeing them kiss was sort of odd - but Seamus still can't believe no one had owled him about Ginny and Neville. No one.
Well, actually, he can, now he thinks about it. Lavender had been distracted, for obvious reasons - Ron. Knob. - and aforementioned exes and brother were unlikely to have mentioned it for (now) equally obvious reasons.
But bloody hell.
Neville.
And that's three of them now.
Seamus just can't get over it, but it's a fact he's best not alluding to again, not in present company, not if he'd like to keep his teeth at any rate. He'll have to save further expressions of his disbelief for Lavender. Anyroad, she's more likely to understand him. And she doesn't mind a bit of goss. Dean's a real mate, absolutely, Seamus wouldn't trade him for the world, but even if Ginny weren't his ex, he wouldn't be likely to talk about this much. That might make Dean the better person, Seamus will allow, but privately he's also sure that means he's more fun.
So anything else he has to say about it will just have to keep.
Which leaves Quidditch.
Despite only being a reserve teammate - which is clearly still better than being tossed off the team entirely like some he could mention - Seamus throws himself into a seriously dedicated discussion of the sport and their team and their chances this year with the new line up. Strategy is everything, or at least it is when gossip is off the table.
Dean loves the sport and could probably talk about it for hours, but mostly he's just happy that Seamus has finally seemed to move on from the whole Gin thing. On consideration, maybe he should have included that bit of information when he'd owled his friend about Ron and Lavender... Seamus could have gotten his disbelief out of his system elsewhere, somewhere where Dean wouldn't have had to watch him process in real time...
So Quidditch talk?
Bring it on.
More please.
If one more person says one more word to him about the team, Ron's going to scream.
And then curse them.
He knows how.
Fine, maybe a hex instead, but he's learnt some really wretched ones. Anyone else keeps messing him about, they're likely to learn that the hard way.
This hasn't been his night anyway. It was dreadful. Second maybe to Christmas Eve, but that's a seriously close run thing.
Bloody hell.
There'd been jokes about Ginny, as if he were his sister's keeper. Haha! He's not a Keeper at all anymore... People could fuck right off, they aren't funny in the least. And sure: Neville. He gets it. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around that either, so what did they expect him to say? Neville! There was no accounting for taste.
And speaking of poor taste, there was 'Mione, sat up there at the High Table, next to Snape as if that were normal. Snape! She'd airs enough, Ron was sure, just for being an apprentice now, the witch, and that's after she'd tricked him and Harry into going back to school. Bint. He could have been an Auror by now, instead of sitting around having his ex, Lavender, of all people insult his academic prowess.
That had been rich. Worse, everyone at the table had seemed inclined to agree with her.
Chit.
And Harry? Harry! Snogging Malfoy! In public! The ruddy poof! Well, poofs, because if Harry was snogging him, Malfoy probably wasn't the only poof in that equation.
Bloody hell.
People kept asking Ron about the camping trip with Harry last year. As it wasn't generally known he'd done a runner - somehow that had seemed advantageous at the time, more fool he - he's now finding people seem to have all sorts of strange notions about the nature of the trio's relationship and how they spent all those long nights. More than once this evening he's had to explain to people that he's not into buggery, and that no, he'd certainly never seen - or even considered seeing - someone who was now shagging the greasy dungeon bat, say, or anyone who was involved with any of those Death Eating dungeon dwellers, for that matter.
The ideas people got!
The only good thing was 'Mione wasn't sat there snogging the old nonce in front of the school like the poofters. It was plenty bad enough that it was left to his imagination what 'Mione and the git got up to, and judging by the comments directed his way, almost everyone else's, too.
Fucking hell.
Seamus has just launched into yet another recitation of Jack's supposed qualities - if he were so good, why wasn't he on the team to begin with? - and Ron growls. There are too many unpleasant things racing through his head to keep them inside anymore, and restraint has never been one of his virtues even on a good day. He'd had a horrible year last year, this one doesn't seem to be starting any better, and it's only three days in. He's buggered.
Language. Definitely language.
For fuck's sake.
It was one thing when Demelza was around to try to take some of the edge off, but like this, here and now...
He just sort of melts down, kind of like one of Neville's cauldrons.
Harry's empty bed is the most immediate, the most glaring reminder of all the things that bother Ron these days. It's been empty every night since... well, that horrible night when practically everything had gone pear shaped. Has it only been a week and a half? It feels longer. Dean has had a chance to become accustomed to things, for Seamus this is all new. It provides Ron with an opening, and in one of his better moments he might not be proud of this, but just now he needs someone, anyone onside.
So he - very casually - says that it's a pity that they can't plan properly for the coming term's matches because Harry isn't there and all... (He doesn't mean a word of it.) Seamus takes the bait and asks - in light of the hour - if Harry won't be back soon. That was probably as innocent as it was predictable. Ron ruefully shakes his head 'no' (he doesn't mean that either) and Dean does the honours and replies that it's unlikely as Harry hasn't spent a night there since... Well.
Another rueful nod from Ron confirms the veracity of Dean's claim (he wouldn't want to seem overeager...) and then with a shrug Ron adds, "Yeah, that's normal these days." There's a pause as he appears to consider it, and then he continues, "Although, it's probably preferable to having him? Them? here, yeah?" Which, now that he mentions it, Seamus realises would actually be a possibility, and for the very first time he starts thinking about what it means to have a gay roommate.
Still busy with some of the logistical aspects, in sheer amazement Seamus asks if this means Harrry's been spending his nights in Slytherin - which, fair enough, no one has ever heard of someone from another House doing that, so the curiosity is understandable.
Ron answers truthfully, but it's tactical. "They're probably in the Room of Requirement..." They're all well familiar with the capabilities of the Room, so that soon does a number on Seamus' head. He sits there, all too visibly thinking about what that means, purely practically speaking, and Merlin, the possibilities... And then Ron takes it there.
It doesn't take much.
It's strange. Having had some time to come to terms with the facts, neither the sight of Harry and Malfoy nor 'Mione and Snape had seemed to impress Seamus all that much. In the absence of any outward signs of... well, anything really, 'Mione's... affair had almost appeared to bore him. But Harry's snog had still registered. Gin's and Neville's even more so; more yet, Ron suspects, as it had come as such a surprise to his... erstwhile teammate. But Ron really doesn't feel like thinking about Ginny, not like that, and it's not that he wants to think about Harry or 'Mione with their... whatever they were, of course not, but whether he wants to or not, his thoughts actually go there now and again. And Seamus seems alright with the theoretical concept of Malfoy and Harry, except for the whole 'Slytherin Seeker' bit - which, 'Slytherin' really should have been enough, shouldn't it? - but Seamus clearly isn't as comfortable with the reality of what the relationship entails.
He's also apparently adept at not thinking about it, but Ron has no issue helping his thoughts along by sharing some of his own. "Well changing for practice shouldn't be a problem," the ginger says encouragingly, and from the tone one could almost think he means it. "You've got curtains after all." It would be a stupid thing to say were it not deliberate. Of course they have curtains and of course it wouldn't be an issue - not that an obvious issue presents itself to Seamus, per se, it's more a vague sense of unease - but the team only has the one tent, they share it with the girls, so one might think it shouldn't be a problem no matter how things are viewed. It transpires one would be wrong. Further, the fact they've no such curtain arrangements in their own bathroom almost immediately pops to mind, as intended, and now Seamus is considering that, too. "No," Ron repeats, "it shouldn't be a problem." Unsurprisingly Seamus doesn't seem convinced.
Ron's thoughts are like a contagion, and it isn't long before they get under Seamus' skin and bore their way into his mind, and soon he's looking at the empty bed with some noticeable discomfort.
Good.
Theo's presence in the seventh year girls' room is practically more common than not these days. It hasn't changed much about the girls' habits, except causing Róisín to undress in the bathroom instead of beside her bed (such a minor inconvenience after all Hestia's been through). Flora and Ella had usually done so anyway, and Val wasn't likely to let something as trivial as that change her habits in the least. She simply turns her back to him as she disrobes, and Theo promptly proceeds to be too busy staring at the vaulted ceiling for it to be an issue either way. He's hardly the sort to sneak a peek, and if he were, Hestia would probably have a definitive thing or two to say about that.
He's presently seated on the witch's bed - and once Val dons her nightshirt - he resumes examining Hestia's back now the Glamour has been removed. "Do you know, I think it might be a little better..." He tells her as he studies her scars.
Hestia has heard that too many times before when either her boyfriend or her twin had been eager to encourage her to 'keep positive!' and 'not lose hope' to trust it on its face now. "How good is it really?" She asks. "You measured it. I want numbers. How's it doing?"
"Ah," he replies, gesturing a bit helplessly. After the exceedingly unfortunate incident with the Aurors nearly two weeks ago now, he's a little hesitant to perform any magic with his wand here, so that presents a bit of a problem, doesn't it?
Flora, currently reading on the neighbouring bed, picks up on the exchange almost immediately and hurries over to do the measuring for them. The guilt really gives her no peace. She's soon performed the Diagnostic Spell and Theo checks his notes, they do the maths and two of the three gleefully determine that there's been at least some change for the better. It always strikes Hestia as strange that the other two seem more invested in her health than she does.
"But that's wonderful!" Flora exclaims with real feeling, still giving a care not to raise her voice loud enough to set off the klaxons again. But they haven't seen any improvements in months now, so this is a development of some significance. "What did you two try?"
"Something of Blaise's actually," Hestia answers and tells them what she can about the Glamour. It isn't much, but it's enough to make Theo and Flora resolve to learn more.
"Pipe down, you mob," Róisín groans. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."
Theo apologises immediately and wandlessly puts up the House Privacy Charm and then he and Flora resume speculating on how the Masking Spell might work to heal, and lycanthrope scars at that. They're particularly stubborn. It's an entirely new approach to the problem, something neither of them had thought to try, and it offers plenty of food for thought. By the time they're finished for the night, Hestia is sound asleep. It's been an exhausting weekend for her, what with the full moon and all, so that hardly comes as a surprise. Theo simply adjusts the Privacy Charm in case she's in a... physical mood come morning and cuddles up behind her after he pulls her bed curtains closed. While he regrets missing his window of opportunity - does he ever - the thing he truly loves most is sleeping with the witch in his arms. The very next best thing is the sure knowledge that there will be other windows and they have time, more than he could ever have imagined only a year ago. It helps him relax with Hestia in a way he might not otherwise be able to. He isn't generally the model of self-confidence after all, and she is very definitely the witch of his dreams.
Before long he's sleeping just as soundly as his witch, but for the first time in what feels like a very long time, he's feeling hopeful about being able to help her again.
Soon.
Ron's a twatwaffle in this story, no question, but it's worthwhile to remember just how in keeping that attitude is with the laws of the time.
Society has come a long way.
It also took fucking forever to do so.
Never go back. 🏳️🌈
Slytherins: Flora Carrow, Gryffindors: Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom, Professor McGonagall, Slytherins: Blaise Zabini, Roísín Rosier, Valerie Vaisey, Gryffindors: Jack Sloper, Ginny Weasley, Others: Sunny, Crookshanks
03 January, 1999. Well, they've survived their first meal now that the rest of the students have returned. Bring on the aftermath!
Written with oodles of love for
mywitch and erexen.Originally Published: 2021-10-03 on LJ / DW
Words: 8.1 k
Rating: Mature
Warning: One of the characters is an intolerant bellend and uses offensive language in this chapter. There's also some latent misogyny on display in how another character's actions are viewed. As intolerance is a theme in this story (and frankly all too likely), realistically we need to go there. We won't dwell on the negative beyond trying to make some of those characters less of a caricature. Hate and intolerance really don't deserve voices. ❤️
Characters: Hermione Granger (recent Hogwarts graduate and Transfiguration apprentice), Severus Snape (Deputy Headmaster, Head of Slytherin, Potions Master, and a great deal happier of late), Harry Potter (8G, Captain, Seeker, Draco's), Draco Malfoy (8S, Captain, Seeker, Potter's),
Slytherins: Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend, Hestia's), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Flora Carrow (7S, studious but sadly guilt-ridden twin), Gryffindors: Seamus Finnigan (8G fiery Reserve Beater, long time friend of Lavender's), Ron Weasley (8G, Lavender's ex, ex-Keeper, presently seeing Demelza), Dean Thomas (8G, Chaser)
Mentioned briefly: Staff: Neville Longbottom (Head of Gryffindor, Herbology Apprentice), Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Slytherins: Blaise Zabini (8S, highly intrigued by the duality of Lavender's nature), Roísín Rosier (7S), Valerie "Val" Vaisey (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor), Gryffindors:, Jack Sloper 7G (ex-Keeper, ex-teammate), Ginny Weasley (7G, Chaser, presently seeing Neville) Others: Sunny (Severus' loyal little House Elf), Crookshanks (Hermione's furry little roommate and half-Kneazle)
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).
Probably because he didn't have Hermione on his back lobbying for a return to seventh year - although it had helped that he'd been there for most of his - Neville elected to take the school up on its offer and began a Herbology apprenticeship. Being named Gryffindor's Head of House came as a greater surprise - to everyone - but Minerva can be awfully convincing. CS
Unable to endure the restrictions being a student entails any longer, Hermione sits her N.E.W.T.s early at the end of the first term, and embarks on an apprenticeship with the school's new Transfiguration professor. CS
Shortly before Christmas, Theo gets a little carried away while fooling around with Hestia, forgets the trace on his wand and uses a Restraining Spell that soon has the Aurors appearing in the Slytherin dorms in force. The results are perfectly mortifying, and he's unlikely to forget the trace again anytime soon. Mentioned in ACoCE 4b
Severus and Hermione 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 doesn't believe it, 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. CS Regardless of the circumstances of their beginnings, things are coming along swimmingly for the two of them. HC,S 1&2
When suspicions are then considered confirmed that Harry detonated the Whiz-bangs, Draco comes forward and provides him with his alibi, in the process revealing to those at the school over the Christmas holidays that they're seeing one another. They hadn't meant to go public, but it seems preferable to the alternatives. CS
Suspicion finally lands on Ron, and as Lavender has just learned he's cheating on her with Demelza, she refuses to give him an alibi. In punishment, he's removed from the Quidditch team and given a great deal of detention. Making matters even worse, Neville is the one to do so, and that comes right on the heels of Ron's learning the Herbology apprentice is seeing Ginny. He's not best pleased. Jack Sloper, who'd been perfunctorily removed from the team when Ron rejoined after being absent his seventh year CS, is now tapped to become the Keeper once more. I 1
Having remained at Hogwarts for Christmas, Dean immediately owls an absent Seamus about the developments with Ron so his friend can see to Lavender. ACoCE 1 And of course it's vital to discuss what to do with the team in light of Ron's suspension... A great deal of mailing ensues. I 1
Blaise applies the Glamour Lavender taught him to Hestia's scarred back Sunday morning. The thing works a treat, and it apparently has some healing properties, too. I 1
Sunday, 03 January, 1999 - after dinner
Hermione and Severus in his quartersHermione is already a few steps into Severus' quarters when she hears the door fall to behind him. She's headed for his couch and fully expects him to follow her, so she's surprised to feel one of his long-fingered hands take her arm in a firm grip instead, and even more so when he spins her around, pressing her against the reassuringly solid surface of that now closed door. She's still more surprised when he follows up by kissing her so fiercely she's left wringing for breath.
Holy cricket.
Of course, a fair bit of that effect is psychological, but that doesn't make the breathing any easier.
"You were fantastic," he assures her.
Slightly oxygen deprived, that's probably it, she briefly has to wonder when and at what, until things fall back into place for her and she realises he means at the meal.
She laughs at herself.
She's grown confident enough about what her kisses do for him - and isn't that a thrill - but doesn't think they quite warrant a 'fantastic'. Yet. There's a brief flash of thought about what it might take to earn an 'O' from the man that brings something heated to her expression and leaves Severus conflicted about swearing off the constant Legilimency.
Minx.
It continues to amaze him just how well she'd recognised their suitability while his head was still firmly stuck... in a book. He owes her a great deal for having the courage to envision a future together. His happiness, in point of fact.
With a fair sight more gentleness, he tucks one of her errant curls behind an ear and kisses the top of her head affectionately, before shaking off the sentimentality.
The goal here had been to reassure her that she hadn't bungled their first public appearance before the school, and he needs to focus. Fine, her nerves were in evidence, but not glaringly so. She'd been calm and confident in their interactions, and yet there'd been nothing too overt. Any excitement was more than legitimate given it was her first meal amongst staff.
She was perfect.
Again he has to quash the sentimental response.
Positive reinforcement. He means to see she comes to enjoy the meals, and he has a number of ideas as to how to go about it. Trailing a few kisses along her neck is generally a good start...
Of a certainty, students the castle over are presently owling home to alert their families to the new developments. It was unavoidable. Thus far he and Hermione had been lucky. The overwhelming presence of Slytherins over the holidays had helped nontrivially to normalise both their relationship and Draco's with Potter. As long as everything seemed normal, in the artificial safety both the occasion and circumstances afforded, they'd been relatively protected. Even those less generous of spirit hadn't questioned it too much. It was Christmas, after all, and the relationships were evidently practically snooze-worthy developments to boot. Quite literally: nothing to write home about. Now that their Housemates have returned, newly confronted with the facts, they were almost assuredly likely to reinforce one another in less... charitable reactions.
He's seen it before.
When he'd returned to the school upon his release from St. Mungo's - and custody - late last summer, he'd been met by a smaller and more sympathetic group in possession of a better understanding of what his role in the war had been, what he'd sacrificed... There was a... marked difference between his welcome then contrasted with the start of the term when the reception was decidedly... cooler.
Well the summer had helped him better prepare for it, so there was that. He'd been almost ready when the Howlers and press came. Occlusion had naturally done for the rest. Useful skill, that. His appointment as Headmaster the year before - so shortly on the heels of Albus'... murder - had been only marginally better received. That was presumably the only thing to be said for Voldemort's reign of fear, it did tend to mute the outcry.
On the other hand, it had also helped that he'd been mid-mission at the time. That had a way of distracting one, keeping one's attention focused elsewhere. Last autumn, he'd had an unfortunate propensity to... wallow instead.
Hmm.
Well things are different now. He's different now. And having Hermione in his life changes so much more.
He's confident they've made the best of this they could tonight. There was little they could have improved upon, and frankly that little simply hadn't been achievable given the witch's disposition, which he wouldn't change for the world. (A decidedly affectionate kiss punctuates that thought before he resumes the more languid ones in the vicinity of her ear. She does rather like those.) Or at least, it hadn't been achievable shy of employing a Draught of Peace, which seems a bit overkill for the purpose... No, they can manage on their own.
Truthfully, he's rather pleased with how things went.
Realistically, Draco and Potter had attracted more attention than they had, which took some doing as the staff were far more prominently on display. But then Potter was rather given to making a spectacle of himself. Objectively, it had only been a small peck to Draco's cheek as they took their seats - a simple buss; Potter probably thought it advisable to publicly acknowledge the nature of their relationship, considered it nothing more than a trifling display of affection - but that simply isn't the way it was seen.
With a pang of guilt, Severus wonders if he should have spoken to Draco in advance about how to best manage the meal... But then it's nothing his godson doesn't know, after all.
Still, sometimes one needs to be reminded of things, even when they should be obvious. Merlin knows, Hermione does that for him all the time. It's surprising how many basic things about life he seems to have forgotten over the years. How to simply enjoy himself first and foremost amongst them, and how obvious was that?
No, a few words in Draco's ear might not have gone awry.
Speaking of ears... He represses a sigh as he stops nibbling on Hermione's decidedly more delectable lobe, pleased to hear her panting when he does. Yes, that is a welcome response. Unfortunately he still has some things he needs to prepare for class tomorrow, and if he continues here, there's little chance he'll be able to see to them. He's accustomed to sacrifices, duty and all that rot, but this he feels more acutely. He's briefly tempted to say 'dash it all' and take the witch to bed.
How irksome that he's a fundamentally responsible wizard.
Irksome indeed.
And the witch seems in perfect agreement once it becomes clear he probably doesn't mean to continue. Her eyes flash momentarily in that fiery way of hers he likes so much. So much, in fact, it has him weighing the options again briefly, but they're both saved from their baser instincts when her stomach rumbles.
Hermione pinks, as that is a mite embarrassing given they've only just returned from the meal.
"I didn't eat much," she feels pressed to explain.
"I'm aware," he answers with a soft smile. "Shall we have Sunny bring you something?"
As his house elf brings the most magnificent things, she'd have difficulty refusing the offer even if she weren't hungry. The friendly little creature has kept them amply and excellently fed the past week and a half. She'd quite regretted returning to the regular meals in the Hall.
"You could join me in the lab," he offers, the very sound of which is both exciting and touch daunting. The idea of eating in his lab is unheard of.
Her hesitancy answers for her. "Hermione, for goodness sake, there are Charms for that." Which obviously there were, and yet he generally still wouldn't risk it, but he hates the idea of being without her company. He won't be able to see her for much of tomorrow, and somewhat oddly he's begun to viscerally anticipate that loss.
Of course it helps that he only needs to do some chopping to prepare ingredients for class, and nothing particularly sensitive at that.
She doesn't need him to ask again, they've soon summoned the elf and placed an order - Sunny does manage to squeeze in a reproach that Severus hadn't saved some room for a meal of his own; Severus, only too accustomed to his elf, simply ignores it - and she cheerily follows the Potions Master into his private lab.
There have been some updates to the curriculum, always a little problematic in subjects that haven't seen any significant changes in decades if not centuries, and Minerva had decided that a focus on predominantly beneficial potions was to be recommended, and that those with more... questionable applications were best avoided. Sound in principle, he's always felt much the same about being required to teach a Love Potion, say (and had spent the subsequent weeks constantly testing the school's food and drinks), but the issue wasn't always the result so much as it was a question of the skills required to brew the damn things. And to make matters worse, the requirements for both the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s hadn't changed one iota. It was all well and good believing Healing Potions were preferable material, especially as they were, but if the class hadn't the requisite proficiency to prepare the ingredients, to say nothing of managing the actual brewing processes themselves... The alterations meant he was stuck now chopping some of the ingredients for his first class tomorrow so they'd be in a position to brew at all, and the seventh and eighth years would doubtless struggle - more than usual - with the Carnivorous Calendula tomorrow.
Merlin, he misses having Hermione in that class.
Which is stupid. Utterly. For no number of Galleons would he be willing to have her back there again as opposed to in his bed. He's an idiot, and wishes his thoughts wouldn't drift there now and again.
He'll most likely get over it in time.
Hermione settles in quietly on the stool by the sink and watches him get to work, fond, as always, of seeing those hands demonstrate their expertise so elegantly. It's different, too, now that she's come to think of those hands as 'hers'. Once he has everything in place - the amounts carefully calculated, the tools and necessary storage at the ready - he begins to explain why he presently has the pleasure of preparing things in advance. He likes that she'd waited for him to do so, so as not to risk disturbing his concentration. She's considerate that way. It's... nice that she respects his work. It leaves him feeling more... hopeful about how they might function as a couple now that classes were resuming. Not that he'd doubted her, she was far too sensible by nature, and thus far they'd been able to address any issues - and there were precious few - directly. A word or two, and generally they'd made accommodations immediately. That was all it took.
The pre-prepared ingredients were a change she'd noticed occasionally as a N.E.W.T. student, except she'd wondered if that wasn't due to their more advanced curriculum. He assures her it's become all too common now; he's readying materials for select potions in all seven years of the course.
Sunny brings her meal, and Severus places a variety of protective Charms to ensure his ingredients and work surfaces don't become contaminated and vice versa. When she still seems uneasy, he laughs. "How do you imagine I prepare the next ingredients? If I couldn't rely on the Spells to properly clean, where would I be?" Eminently sensible, naturally.
"And yet you don't eat in your laboratory?" She teases between bites.
"Merlin, no. That's the height of idiocy. Best practices...."
She laughs, and he looks a touch chagrined. "I wanted your company," he admits, and she beams. So strangely, he's coming to have fewer and fewer issues making admissions like that. She finishes her meal as he works, and when she's done and the elf has Banished her dishes, she offers to help the Potions Master with his preparations as she has none of her own for tomorrow.
He enjoys watching her chop the roots. He wonders sometimes, no matter how he's come to feel about the witch, if he would be capable of feeling that way were she less competent. It's difficult to separate the woman from her attributes, and the point is rather moot. He likes the witch because of who she is. The sum of who she is.
Once their chore is completed, they package the roots for the morning and tidy up the lab. There's something nice about the way they so seamlessly complete each other's actions, very little explicit coordination is required, and what there is of it is all very practical and much to his satisfaction. The witch always has her wits about her, he likes that. Noxxing the sconces, they return to his sitting room where she goes to take a seat before the fire in his lounge, her half-Kneazle already greeting her in anticipation with a purr from its basket by the hearth, but Severus stops her.
"Would you mind giving me your wand? I need to key it to the wards," he tells her simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
They've been seeing each other for ten days now. Almost exactly 240 hours. Not that she'd been counting, of course... Fine, she had, but then the maths for the tenth evening were fairly easy... Somewhere in the back of her mind there was always this risk he might come to his senses and decide seeing one another wasn't to his liking, or worse - because there's less she can do about it - that it just wasn't worth the hassle the wizarding world would almost definitely be sure to make it. So this, keying her wand to his wards on the eve of the semester's begin?
Huge.
Monumental.
He's not even waiting to see how things go. And she's worried he feels he has to do this.
They've spent almost the entirety of their time together... together. She'd hardly left his side. He'd had a meeting with Minerva prior to the students' return to make plans for the coming term - the fruit of which saw him chopping roots this evening - and she'd slept through part of that in his magnificent bed and then spent the rest reading in his lounge, waiting for him to finish. She hadn't needed her wand keyed, because she hadn't been out and about without him. They'd gone to the library together, because of course they had; anything else would have been unnatural. She had almost everything she required in her beaded bag, anyway, and Sunny had cheerily fetched the few books from her room that she hadn't. And when she'd Flooed back for Crooks, well for one thing Severus had gone with her, and for another he'd merely had to drop the wards on his fireplace.
"You don't have to you know," she replies - probably foolishly - instead of just handing the wand over.
"Of course I don't have to. I want to. Unlike Transfiguration, the clean up after a Potions class can take some time and sadly isn't predictable." Well, it was somewhat predictable, in that mistakes were all but guaranteed, but the students never ceased to surprise him with the extent to which some things went wrong. "We can't have you waiting in the corridors while I have them scrape cauldron rests from the ceiling."
"I can always wait in my room," she offers, referring to her new apprentice's digs. "You can Floo when you're..." 'Ready' is the definitely the wrong word, and feels - far - too much like a booty call. 'Home' suggests he'd need to do so immediately, that he isn't entitled to time or space to himself... Just because they've been virtually inseparable until now doesn't mean they need to continue in this fashion.
He smiles when he sees her struggling to find the right word and thinks he understands why. It only serves to make him more certain this is the right thing to do. The more natural things seem, the more natural they become. He would no more have her begin to doubt aspects of their arrangement than he'd deliberately increase any awkwardness that was almost sure to give rise to more public censure. Never provide them with a toehold. The easier he can make this... well, the easier it will be, by definition.
"If you're comfortable with it, you can have my den to work," he offers. He has his office next door anyway, and now that it isn't necessary to keep his undertakings from two opposing parties, the study is very nearly redundant. Fine, it was a nicely appointed room, but there's no reason that shouldn't benefit the witch. "Unless you'd prefer to work at yours," he adds quickly, not liking to presume, when she still fails to produce her wand.
He knows perfectly well her studio quarters aren't a patch on his. He'd sweetly offered to stay with her there when she said she needed to spend some time with Crookshanks. It hadn't taken them long to decide the better solution was having all three of them at his instead. Sunny had made it abundantly obvious that he approved whole-heartedly. He adored having two extra (and less resistant) beings to lavish attention on, Crooks is far too sensible (and feline) to object to that sort of treatment, and the elf and the half-Kneazle seem to be getting on like a house on fire as a revolving assortment of newly fashioned Kneazle toys silently attest.
"But then you'd be forced to transport Crookshanks back and forth. Or leave him alone longer..." he adds, still trying to win her over.
Independent of their relationship and the obvious advantages more time with him provides, she's never really had a chance to work in her new room and hasn't developed a preference for doing so. They have more space here - a far nicer space, too - and it's incredibly flattering to think he doesn't mind leaving her alone with all his books...
At this point she's reaching to retrieve her wand before he can re-evaluate. She can always spend more time in her quarters down the line if she thinks he's feeling crowded, but this might not be an offer he repeats any time soon.
It's the matter of moments, and yet it feels like everything has changed. He hands her back her wand and folds her into his arms, or maybe she does the folding, it's become hard to tell. "Come back here after class tomorrow," he says, it's half a request. "Set up in the den, it's all yours. Or on the dining table if you need more space." Regrettably now that term has begun, they're unlikely to need it much for meals moving forward. "I'd miss you if you didn't," he assures her, cementing her plans for tomorrow as easily as that.
Finding words inadequate, she takes his hand and leads him towards the bedroom. There's nothing wrong with retiring early now and again.
Of course, the question remains how much rest they'll get despite the earliness of the hour.
Accustomed by now to their humans' behaviour, the elf and half-Kneazle don't even spare it a thought. Sunny conjures a colourful ball of feathers he proceeds to float above the feline's basket, Crooks enjoys lazily attempting to bat it about. When he succeeds in landing a solid hook that sends it sailing across the room, the elf gleefully casts a spell to fetch the toy and their game soon resumes from the top.
Say what one will about the Potions Master's highly redeeming qualities - and Sunny invariably has much to say about those - the man has never seen the need to throw toys about for the elf to retrieve.
Sunday, 03 January, 1999 - after dinner
Harry and Draco in the Room of Requirement"Well that went better than expected," Harry tells Draco once the door to the Room of Requirement shuts behind them.
Draco snorts. Potter is delusional. Or just not very good at predicting things. Or a liar, because the Gryffindor isn't overly pessimistic by nature. Not these days anyway. No, that would be Draco's role, and his dark haired lover is encroaching on it.
He gives the boy a kiss and then sighs. It's no coincidence that the Room provides them with armchairs instead of a bed. The bed will surely come, but for the moment the chairs are more appropriate.
"We should have prepared," Draco tells him as he settles into one, quietly kicking himself that he hadn't seen to those preparations himself. Things were still too new, and he wasn't used to... Well, any of this. Harry hadn't seemed to feel the situation required planning, and Draco isn't quite comfortable enough to boss Harry around.
Yet.
This will probably go a way to seeing that he becomes more so, but perhaps not sufficiently, and definitely not tonight.
"Probably wouldn't have changed much," Harry answers pragmatically. He's used to being on the receiving end of all sorts of unwanted attention. He ignores it. By and large that works. "Anyway, it was fine."
"What precisely? The response to a Gryffindor seeing a Slytherin..."
"Oh, well, to be fair, 'Mione and Snape took the brunt on that count..."
"Or the Chosen One seeing a Death Eater..."
"You aren't a Death Eater..." Harry tries to object, but Draco merely rolls up his left sleeve to expose the Dark Mark demonstratively as he continues.
"Or the fact you're a 'poof'? We're 'poofs'?" Draco concludes.
It probably says something that Harry now hears that word in Ron's voice in his head.
Both boys do.
"I'm sorry," Draco apologises, sensing just where Harry's thoughts have turned. "I'm not satisfied with how I handled this and shouldn't take it out on you. I should have..."
Frankly, Draco isn't really sure what he should have done, just that something had needed doing and he'd done... nothing. But then that's all he and his family have been able to do for so long now. Nothing. They just sat there, idle, hopeless and defenceless, and watched it all inexorably crash over them like a tidal wave. They may as well have tried to stop the ocean as the past year.
"Draco, this is nothing we didn't expect. This is nothing we aren't used to." The Slytherin doesn't quite agree. Merlin knows, society had demonstrated a ready willingness to take their pound of flesh from the Malfoys these past months. If he's fair - he can be - he can almost understand that. His family was better situated, well, had been better situated than most. The rabble had rejoiced at their fall, made their general animosity amply clear, and had been only too happy to take whatever potshots at his family they could. That's human enough, he supposes. Hardly something that should have been unexpected at any rate. But off some of the noises he'd heard tonight, their fellow students' reactions... No, no this is going to be something else. It felt... personal. As if Draco alone had somehow... sullied their saviour, and they do not approve.
He imagines they're going to tear him apart at the seams.
They'll definitely be baying for blood anyway.
He sighs just thinking about it.
Homosexuality wasn't unheard of, naturally, that would be absurd. And things could have been worse for them, so there's that. To the best of his knowledge, were they amongst Muggles, charges might be brought. At least they hadn't Azkaban to fear as long as they conducted their relationship at Hogwarts, instead of Little Whinging, say. But in their society, in the wizarding world, homosexuality wasn't publicised either. 'Confirmed bachelor', and all that...
That lack of acceptance was all part of the reason Draco hadn't wished to go public in the first place. Well, that, and all the publicity he'd already weathered of course.
But it was that or stand silently by and watch Potter be expelled from the school. In order to keep their relationship hidden, he could never have consented to the Legilimency that had cleared Granger, and that would have been that. Draco would have felt too much of a coward letting his lover take the fall for something he hadn't done just to protect their privacy. It wasn't that the Chosen One wouldn't land on his feet, Potter always seemed to, and Merlin knows, he had opportunities and offers owling in every day. But despite all those options, Potter... Harry had chosen the Slytherin, the second greatest pariah at the school save Severus.
That alone merited some courage in response.
And Draco would have gone round the twist were he unable to see him every day.
Either way, the decision is made, and they need to deal with the fallout. The blonde makes a few more half-hearted and ultimately fruitless attempts to explain why they need to manage things better in the future. Harry stubbornly continues to disagree, thoroughly convinced of the futility and disinclined to dwell. If there's one thing he's learnt these past few years: life's too short for that. Eventually Draco accepts that he isn't swaying Harry in the least, he's simply souring his mood, and if Draco keeps this up, he's likely to ruin their night. Finally he apologises again, and the room - completely lacking in subtlety, how Moggie in nature - conjures a bed for the young men.
Harry doesn't need to think twice, he merely laughs, and pulling off the Slytherin's clothes, he drags his boyfriend to bed. Infatuated though he might be, Draco would probably still argue that that's one of Harry's defining characteristics - the Gryffindor seldom thinks twice.
Nevertheless, Draco's reluctance fades in the face of Harry's smile - it is rather special - but he can't help an accompanying thought that they should probably enjoy themselves while they can.
Sunday, 03 January, 1999 - evening
Seamus, Dean and Ron in the Gryffindor eighth year boys' roomSince Neville no longer resided with them... Neville, Head of House, and banging Ron's sister, too! None of those things will ever not be odd. But since Neville had moved out, the remaining four lads had a tendency to talk Quidditch, even more than in years prior. It made sense; up until a little over a week ago, they'd all been on the team.
Tonight it was talking about that, or Ginny, who seems to have now mostly worked her way through the room, oo er, and after Seamus had made one - seriously just the one - evidently inopportune and very poorly received remark on the way back from dinner to avow his disinterest in the witch - just to make it clear he wouldn't be next in line; for some reason he'd briefly thought that was funny - he's come to realise the topic isn't likely to be well received by any of his roommates.
So Quidditch it is, even if they're down to just three of them this evening. Harry had disappeared off with Malfoy long before they reached the portrait hole. Which, yeah, a little strange, and a kind of ballsy move, but that was Harry for you, so whatever.
Frankly, the inadvisability of joking about Ginny probably should have been obvious from the outset, Seamus now accepts that. Dean and Harry were both likely to be tetchy as her exes, and Ron was always a bit of a knob about the girls, plus of course her brother, which was probably more relevant in the present constellation... But the whole thing with her and Neville was just so... new, it had temporarily shorted Seamus' better judgment, which might not always be in the greatest supply to begin with.
Malfoy and Harry, sure, weird, but everyone had mentioned them, it was old news by now - although seeing them kiss was sort of odd - but Seamus still can't believe no one had owled him about Ginny and Neville. No one.
Well, actually, he can, now he thinks about it. Lavender had been distracted, for obvious reasons - Ron. Knob. - and aforementioned exes and brother were unlikely to have mentioned it for (now) equally obvious reasons.
But bloody hell.
Neville.
And that's three of them now.
Seamus just can't get over it, but it's a fact he's best not alluding to again, not in present company, not if he'd like to keep his teeth at any rate. He'll have to save further expressions of his disbelief for Lavender. Anyroad, she's more likely to understand him. And she doesn't mind a bit of goss. Dean's a real mate, absolutely, Seamus wouldn't trade him for the world, but even if Ginny weren't his ex, he wouldn't be likely to talk about this much. That might make Dean the better person, Seamus will allow, but privately he's also sure that means he's more fun.
So anything else he has to say about it will just have to keep.
Which leaves Quidditch.
Despite only being a reserve teammate - which is clearly still better than being tossed off the team entirely like some he could mention - Seamus throws himself into a seriously dedicated discussion of the sport and their team and their chances this year with the new line up. Strategy is everything, or at least it is when gossip is off the table.
Dean loves the sport and could probably talk about it for hours, but mostly he's just happy that Seamus has finally seemed to move on from the whole Gin thing. On consideration, maybe he should have included that bit of information when he'd owled his friend about Ron and Lavender... Seamus could have gotten his disbelief out of his system elsewhere, somewhere where Dean wouldn't have had to watch him process in real time...
So Quidditch talk?
Bring it on.
More please.
If one more person says one more word to him about the team, Ron's going to scream.
And then curse them.
He knows how.
Fine, maybe a hex instead, but he's learnt some really wretched ones. Anyone else keeps messing him about, they're likely to learn that the hard way.
This hasn't been his night anyway. It was dreadful. Second maybe to Christmas Eve, but that's a seriously close run thing.
Bloody hell.
There'd been jokes about Ginny, as if he were his sister's keeper. Haha! He's not a Keeper at all anymore... People could fuck right off, they aren't funny in the least. And sure: Neville. He gets it. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around that either, so what did they expect him to say? Neville! There was no accounting for taste.
And speaking of poor taste, there was 'Mione, sat up there at the High Table, next to Snape as if that were normal. Snape! She'd airs enough, Ron was sure, just for being an apprentice now, the witch, and that's after she'd tricked him and Harry into going back to school. Bint. He could have been an Auror by now, instead of sitting around having his ex, Lavender, of all people insult his academic prowess.
That had been rich. Worse, everyone at the table had seemed inclined to agree with her.
Chit.
And Harry? Harry! Snogging Malfoy! In public! The ruddy poof! Well, poofs, because if Harry was snogging him, Malfoy probably wasn't the only poof in that equation.
Bloody hell.
People kept asking Ron about the camping trip with Harry last year. As it wasn't generally known he'd done a runner - somehow that had seemed advantageous at the time, more fool he - he's now finding people seem to have all sorts of strange notions about the nature of the trio's relationship and how they spent all those long nights. More than once this evening he's had to explain to people that he's not into buggery, and that no, he'd certainly never seen - or even considered seeing - someone who was now shagging the greasy dungeon bat, say, or anyone who was involved with any of those Death Eating dungeon dwellers, for that matter.
The ideas people got!
The only good thing was 'Mione wasn't sat there snogging the old nonce in front of the school like the poofters. It was plenty bad enough that it was left to his imagination what 'Mione and the git got up to, and judging by the comments directed his way, almost everyone else's, too.
Fucking hell.
Seamus has just launched into yet another recitation of Jack's supposed qualities - if he were so good, why wasn't he on the team to begin with? - and Ron growls. There are too many unpleasant things racing through his head to keep them inside anymore, and restraint has never been one of his virtues even on a good day. He'd had a horrible year last year, this one doesn't seem to be starting any better, and it's only three days in. He's buggered.
Language. Definitely language.
For fuck's sake.
It was one thing when Demelza was around to try to take some of the edge off, but like this, here and now...
He just sort of melts down, kind of like one of Neville's cauldrons.
Harry's empty bed is the most immediate, the most glaring reminder of all the things that bother Ron these days. It's been empty every night since... well, that horrible night when practically everything had gone pear shaped. Has it only been a week and a half? It feels longer. Dean has had a chance to become accustomed to things, for Seamus this is all new. It provides Ron with an opening, and in one of his better moments he might not be proud of this, but just now he needs someone, anyone onside.
So he - very casually - says that it's a pity that they can't plan properly for the coming term's matches because Harry isn't there and all... (He doesn't mean a word of it.) Seamus takes the bait and asks - in light of the hour - if Harry won't be back soon. That was probably as innocent as it was predictable. Ron ruefully shakes his head 'no' (he doesn't mean that either) and Dean does the honours and replies that it's unlikely as Harry hasn't spent a night there since... Well.
Another rueful nod from Ron confirms the veracity of Dean's claim (he wouldn't want to seem overeager...) and then with a shrug Ron adds, "Yeah, that's normal these days." There's a pause as he appears to consider it, and then he continues, "Although, it's probably preferable to having him? Them? here, yeah?" Which, now that he mentions it, Seamus realises would actually be a possibility, and for the very first time he starts thinking about what it means to have a gay roommate.
Still busy with some of the logistical aspects, in sheer amazement Seamus asks if this means Harrry's been spending his nights in Slytherin - which, fair enough, no one has ever heard of someone from another House doing that, so the curiosity is understandable.
Ron answers truthfully, but it's tactical. "They're probably in the Room of Requirement..." They're all well familiar with the capabilities of the Room, so that soon does a number on Seamus' head. He sits there, all too visibly thinking about what that means, purely practically speaking, and Merlin, the possibilities... And then Ron takes it there.
It doesn't take much.
It's strange. Having had some time to come to terms with the facts, neither the sight of Harry and Malfoy nor 'Mione and Snape had seemed to impress Seamus all that much. In the absence of any outward signs of... well, anything really, 'Mione's... affair had almost appeared to bore him. But Harry's snog had still registered. Gin's and Neville's even more so; more yet, Ron suspects, as it had come as such a surprise to his... erstwhile teammate. But Ron really doesn't feel like thinking about Ginny, not like that, and it's not that he wants to think about Harry or 'Mione with their... whatever they were, of course not, but whether he wants to or not, his thoughts actually go there now and again. And Seamus seems alright with the theoretical concept of Malfoy and Harry, except for the whole 'Slytherin Seeker' bit - which, 'Slytherin' really should have been enough, shouldn't it? - but Seamus clearly isn't as comfortable with the reality of what the relationship entails.
He's also apparently adept at not thinking about it, but Ron has no issue helping his thoughts along by sharing some of his own. "Well changing for practice shouldn't be a problem," the ginger says encouragingly, and from the tone one could almost think he means it. "You've got curtains after all." It would be a stupid thing to say were it not deliberate. Of course they have curtains and of course it wouldn't be an issue - not that an obvious issue presents itself to Seamus, per se, it's more a vague sense of unease - but the team only has the one tent, they share it with the girls, so one might think it shouldn't be a problem no matter how things are viewed. It transpires one would be wrong. Further, the fact they've no such curtain arrangements in their own bathroom almost immediately pops to mind, as intended, and now Seamus is considering that, too. "No," Ron repeats, "it shouldn't be a problem." Unsurprisingly Seamus doesn't seem convinced.
Ron's thoughts are like a contagion, and it isn't long before they get under Seamus' skin and bore their way into his mind, and soon he's looking at the empty bed with some noticeable discomfort.
Good.
Sunday, 03 January, 1999 - late evening, the night after the full moon
Theo, Hestia and Flora in the Slytherin seventh year girls' roomTheo's presence in the seventh year girls' room is practically more common than not these days. It hasn't changed much about the girls' habits, except causing Róisín to undress in the bathroom instead of beside her bed (such a minor inconvenience after all Hestia's been through). Flora and Ella had usually done so anyway, and Val wasn't likely to let something as trivial as that change her habits in the least. She simply turns her back to him as she disrobes, and Theo promptly proceeds to be too busy staring at the vaulted ceiling for it to be an issue either way. He's hardly the sort to sneak a peek, and if he were, Hestia would probably have a definitive thing or two to say about that.
He's presently seated on the witch's bed - and once Val dons her nightshirt - he resumes examining Hestia's back now the Glamour has been removed. "Do you know, I think it might be a little better..." He tells her as he studies her scars.
Hestia has heard that too many times before when either her boyfriend or her twin had been eager to encourage her to 'keep positive!' and 'not lose hope' to trust it on its face now. "How good is it really?" She asks. "You measured it. I want numbers. How's it doing?"
"Ah," he replies, gesturing a bit helplessly. After the exceedingly unfortunate incident with the Aurors nearly two weeks ago now, he's a little hesitant to perform any magic with his wand here, so that presents a bit of a problem, doesn't it?
Flora, currently reading on the neighbouring bed, picks up on the exchange almost immediately and hurries over to do the measuring for them. The guilt really gives her no peace. She's soon performed the Diagnostic Spell and Theo checks his notes, they do the maths and two of the three gleefully determine that there's been at least some change for the better. It always strikes Hestia as strange that the other two seem more invested in her health than she does.
"But that's wonderful!" Flora exclaims with real feeling, still giving a care not to raise her voice loud enough to set off the klaxons again. But they haven't seen any improvements in months now, so this is a development of some significance. "What did you two try?"
"Something of Blaise's actually," Hestia answers and tells them what she can about the Glamour. It isn't much, but it's enough to make Theo and Flora resolve to learn more.
"Pipe down, you mob," Róisín groans. "Some of us are trying to sleep here."
Theo apologises immediately and wandlessly puts up the House Privacy Charm and then he and Flora resume speculating on how the Masking Spell might work to heal, and lycanthrope scars at that. They're particularly stubborn. It's an entirely new approach to the problem, something neither of them had thought to try, and it offers plenty of food for thought. By the time they're finished for the night, Hestia is sound asleep. It's been an exhausting weekend for her, what with the full moon and all, so that hardly comes as a surprise. Theo simply adjusts the Privacy Charm in case she's in a... physical mood come morning and cuddles up behind her after he pulls her bed curtains closed. While he regrets missing his window of opportunity - does he ever - the thing he truly loves most is sleeping with the witch in his arms. The very next best thing is the sure knowledge that there will be other windows and they have time, more than he could ever have imagined only a year ago. It helps him relax with Hestia in a way he might not otherwise be able to. He isn't generally the model of self-confidence after all, and she is very definitely the witch of his dreams.
Before long he's sleeping just as soundly as his witch, but for the first time in what feels like a very long time, he's feeling hopeful about being able to help her again.
Soon.
A/N:
Male homosexual acts were chargeable offences in the Scotland until 1980 (seriously! 1980!), when the Criminal Justice (Scotland) Act 1980 legalised consensual acts (conducted in private) between two men who 'had attained the age of 21'. Worth noting: the homosexual age of consent fixed by the Act was significantly higher than the heterosexual age of consent in the United Kingdom, which had been set at 16 since the Criminal Law Amendment Act 1885. (Just let the potential reasons for that discrepancy go through your minds.) Progress: the ages of consent for homosexual and heterosexual acts in Scotland were eventually equalised at 16 with the passage of the Sexual Offences (Amendment) Act 2000. At the time of this story, January 1999, according to Scottish law, Harry and Draco - both eighteen year old young men - could have faced charges for their relationship.Ron's a twatwaffle in this story, no question, but it's worthwhile to remember just how in keeping that attitude is with the laws of the time.
Society has come a long way.
It also took fucking forever to do so.
Never go back. 🏳️🌈