Summary: SSHG, AU, EWE, After the war, Hermione goes to Australia to restore her parents' memories, gets disowned, attacked by a wild animal while crying in the bush, and comes home with her magic now downright plucky. The solution? Training with Severus Snape. No problem, right? He just hates the very air she breathes.
Beta Love: Well, if someone finds me, they can put their name here. Dragon and the Rose checking in. (Rumours of a random Frenchie wandering by may prove to be true.) Dutchgirl01 is here as well
A/N: Was going to be short. Sigh... *headdesk*
Displaced
A story by CorvusDraconis
"She stood in the storm and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails."
Elizabeth Edwards
She wasn't quite sure when it had changed, but she realised her life had become something she hadn't ever expected. After having restored her parents' memories, she had been ripped to shreds by her parents for having displaced their lives without their express permission, been bitten by something large, dark, and unknown in the bush after having been kicked out of her furious parents' house, woken sometime later in a Muggle hospital with the doctors saying it was a miracle she didn't contract rabies, and then she had returned to Britain with her magic askew and inexplicably volatile—
Perhaps, she should have known then that things were changing. A part of her thought that it must be an act of karma in some way for having done something so terrible to her parents regardless of her reasoning.
But the last place she expected to find herself after the war was back in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts as she fought to get her magic back under control—
If it could be brought under control.
The healers at St Mungo's said her magic was "trying to settle" but what exactly that meant was anyone's guess. She had a feeling it was something they said when doctors in the Muggle world called it idiopathic: due to an unknown cause or obscure in nature. When they didn't understand what was really going on it became a cause of her magic "trying to settle." They blamed it on the stress of war.
She was suspicious, but it wasn't like she had any better ideas.
Her magic was, admittedly, rather cranky.
It seemed to have its own mind, and it swiftly lashed out when her emotions even remotely peaked for any reason, often with eerily surgical precision. It had turned her boss at the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures into a baffled-looking hamster, turned the boss' secretary into a screeching budgerigar, and then caused a fountain of various types of tea to spurt up in the centre of the office complete with angelic cherubs and colourful fountain fish. Mind, the office staff was positively ecstatic that each fountain fish dispensed a different variety of tea, and one even provided milk. And said cherubs were clutching trays bearing a vast array of scrumptious biscuits, which positively delighted the harried and ever-hungry Ministry staffers. As strange and spontaneous yet undoubtedly random acts of magic went, no one was complaining.
Not at all.
Few people in the office actually liked their boss, and that went double for his obnoxious blonde harpy of a secretary.
It did leave the office without a boss or a secretary, and no one actually wanted the jobs lest they end up being worse than a hamster or an (admittedly charming) budgie. No amount of curse-breaking seemed to be able to revert the odious man back from stuffing his cheeks full of seeds, grass, and insects, and some people were seriously considering sending him off to the critically endangered breeding program for the European hamster—
At least he'd be doing something good for one of Earth's creatures for once, Hermione thought with no little amusement.
The inability for the DRMC to have a boss, however, forced Hermione to study under the one person the Department of Mysteries knew could help her train for her "problem." It was the one person they knew that had been inflicted with the very same problem once upon a time: one Severus Tobias Snape.
Of course, they couldn't tell her the history of why Severus Snape happened to be someone who specialised in impudent, cheeky "settling" magic, but unless she wanted to transplant to Siberia where Master Arcturus was currently living, Snape was her only local European option.
The DoM seemed to think that if she didn't get a handle on her rebellious magic, it would eventually get out of control, and that would bring along with it a bunch of other issues she did not wish to contemplate, much less deal with. The best case scenario, if her magic didn't fall in line, Hermione would have to live and work in the DoM as an Unspeakable. Worse case, she'd have to wear a magic dampening collar while living and working in the DoM.
It wasn't that she had anything against the DoM (they were lovely people, really) but she wouldn't be able to leave the premises without an escort. She hadn't fought for house-elf, goblin, centaur, dragonbat, vampire, and even Boogeyman rights just to throw her own freedom out the window.
After Ronald had attempted to sneak a wet and unwanted kiss, resulting in her magic lashing out and hurling him arse over tit into the brain tank right in front of a bunch of startled Unspeakables, Hermione realised that perhaps they were right.
Nothing quite like spontaneous teleportation to realise that maybe, just maybe, your magic was getting a little too spunky.
Still, what in Merlin's name was it with Ronald and the brain tank, anyway?
Watching them pull Ron out of the brain tank for the second time in his life earned her nothing but being doused in brain-water from the helplessly flailing, cursing Ronald Weasley as he screamed "GET THAT BLOODY LUNATIC AWAY FROM ME!" at the top of his lungs.
Well, at least she was safe from any future proposals.
Maybe.
She stumbled toward where she had seen a cloak hanging, feeling around blindly as her eyes were sealed shut until her fingers touched warm cloth. She pulled the velvety garment down to blot her face, and she was engulfed in a pleasant, all-encompassing warmth. It made her want to curl up and take a nice nap. The cloak almost seemed to purr, and she tried to remind herself to apologise to whoever was the well-enchanted cloak's owner for getting brain water on it.
She tried to, anyway, but she was floating in a warm space of peace and contentment that made it extremely difficult to concentrate.
Footsteps were approaching, but her eyelids were being stubborn.
"Boss! The Lethifold's got 'er!" someone yelled.
Her borrowed cloak growled menacingly as she was swaddled closer. She heard the sound of a yelp as someone went tumbling away.
"Walter! Damnit, you stubborn sod, let the poor woman go!"
More growling.
More yelping.
Yet, she never felt safer in her life. She just wanted to sleep.
As her eyes closed completely, she felt a rush of warmth as an excited "Yes! Finally!" sounded off in her mind as sleep dragged her under in a blanket of pleasurable, soothing warmth.
Amelia Bones sent Hermione to Hogwarts posthaste after she found out that Hermione had managed to accidentally bond with one of the Unspeakable's most notoriously cranky bond partners—an ancient Lethifold named Walter. Hermione wasn't sure why they'd just left Walter hanging around the brain tank room in the first place, but apparently, Unspeakables often had them for partners.
The problem, Madam Bones had explained, was that it was a one Lethifold per person kinda deal, and not everyone was up to snuff when it came to the Lethifold's inspection. Rejected options tended to get eaten, which Hermione thought would make a serious cramp in anyone's career.
Again, Hermione wondered why Walter was just hanging around the brain tank room if he was that dangerous, but—
Apparently, Walter had been getting restless looking for his bondmate (what's a few hundred years between frenemies?) and no one was really arguing with the Lethifold as long as he wasn't eating everyone in his path to find "the one."
The DoM protocols were pretty strange, she decided.
Obviously.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts' front gates, she found herself feeling a bit nostalgic. It'd been quite some time since she'd set foot on the grounds, and so many memories had centred around Hogwarts more than any other place.
To her surprise, it was Minerva who greeted her at the gates.
"Hermione," she said warmly, taking her into a hug. "How good it is to see you!"
Walter was startled, Hermione realised, when he started to rustle. Hermione stroked the Lethifold gently. "It's okay. This is Minerva. Minerva, this is Walter. My, um—" Hermione trailed off. To call him her partner seemed inappropriate since she wasn't actually an Unspeakable. Bondmate? XXXXX Dark creature-friend?
"Bother", she mumbled. "Lethifold," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's kind of a long story, but he's not carnivorous. I mean he is, but he won't eat anyone. I mean, he would, but—" Hermione slumped. Words were hard.
Minerva just laughed. "Oh, my dear. Of all the people I'd have pinned for acquiring a Lethifold familiar, it would have been Severus, not you."
Hermione smiled sheepishly. Familiar, she thought. That's the word I needed. Thank you unhelpful brain. Honestly.
Minerva nodded as if to agree. "I fear that we haven't been able to clear out Hagrid's old things, so part of your welcome back to Hogwarts will consist of me helping you to make the space your own and help me put the rest in the rubbish pile."
Hermione frowned. "Will he not want them?"
"I think he's too busy chasing his draconic dreams with Charlie Weasley, I fear," Minerva said, shaking her head. "I can't say that I see him surviving all that well with that stubborn thick skull of his, but—I honestly can't say that the change of competence won't be a welcome change, my dear."
Hermione snorted. "I never quite imagined myself as a teacher for magical creatures," she said.
Walter tugged at Hermione's collar to let her know that her opinions were invalid when magical creatures thought she was perfectly suited.
Minerva chuckled. "I think when it comes to careers, the magical ones find you. The problem is when we try to fool ourselves and go into careers we think we need and then magic has other plans. Look at Hagrid, after all. Nice enough bloke but insufferably dangerous to students, staff, himself."
Hermione snort-choked. "I see your point."
Minerva led Hermione to where Hagrid's hut was, and as warned, the place was anything but fresh and clean.
"Merlin's seafaring aftershave," Hermione whispered. "I do believe it's even worse than the last time I saw it."
"The last you saw it wasn't it on fire, my dear?" Minerva asked.
"As I said—I think it's worse now." Hermione cracked her neck. "Well, let's get this soiree started."
Minerva laughed and gave a shake of her head, amused. "It's so good to have you back at Hogwarts, Hermione."
Hermione gave her a smile as they started project number one: creating a decent living space.
Hermione sat down heavily in her newly transfigured armchair and sighed in exhaustion. She hadn't expected to spend most of her first day just clearing out a space for herself to live in. Thankfully, Hagrid's old place was solidly built even if it was well beyond filthy and cleaning it was all about evicting everything that wasn't stone and mortar and framework, hitting every nook and cranny with heavy-duty cleaning spells, and then repeatedly blasting the rest with Aguamenti until it sparkled.
With a few additions on the place, she had a bath (where in Hades had he been washing?), a kitchen, an office library, and a bedroom.
She felt like she was going to sleep for an entire week.
Walter curled around her, warming her, and she thanked the house-elves for bringing fresh meat to feed him. He took the offering from her hands with a gentle scrape that felt like the affectionate lick of her old neighbour's happy hunting hound.
What they had to say about Lethifolds in the books were obviously written by dunderheads who knew nothing about the actual creature. She was starting to see a lot of that while preparing to teach students about magical creatures. The books were absolute rubbish.
She was beginning to understand Snape's ripping into her all the time for parroting back book knowledge like it was the only truth that mattered. Then again, she had stopped being that hand-waving swot a long time ago, so at least she didn't have to change her habits too much to compensate for that epiphany.
Her eyes were closing despite her wishes, and she felt Walter curling around her protectively even as she staggered towards the bedroom. She did not want to wake up with a painful kink in her neck because of having slept sideways and askew in the armchair.
She hastily shed her robes in an untidy pile that she threw into the clothes hamper, brushed her teeth, and then face-planted into the bed with a groan.
Walter pulled the duvet over her and slipped underneath, gently wrapping himself around her to ensure she remained undisturbed.
Hermione awoke the next day feeling like she couldn't remember her own name or what day it was, but by the time she had her fifth cup of tea she started to feel a little bit more human or at least able to conjugate verbs.
She was starting to think the Hogwarts house elves were taking it upon themselves to help out in the hut when she caught something scurrying away out of the corner of her eye.
Tired but still all too aware of what she honed during the war, her wand was out as she cast a bright Lumos.
A wide-eyed fluffy spider froze in place on her table, multiple glowing purple eyes staring back at her.
They stared at each other for a bit before the spider tapped a lantern into place, neatly arranged the silverware, and then scurried off into the dark.
Hermione slowly rubbed her fingers across the bridge of her nose. "Okay, then. House spiders. Check."
Wait, she thought, if there were house spiders taking care of Hagrid's place, then why was it such a total wreck all the time?
"Um, thanks for helping me with the house," Hermione called out weakly, feeling a bit embarrassed. Did spiders speak English? Did they understand English? That would be presumptuous of her—
"Welcome!" she heard a number of tiny voices chime throughout the house.
"You don't have a dog, do you?"
"We hate dogs."
"And cats."
"They eat spiders."
"We don't like being eaten."
"I don't think anyone much likes being eaten," Hermione said, tapping her fingers against her chin.
"Fair."
"Probably true."
Hermione idly wondered if Walter ate arachnids, and she stroked the Lethifold gently. "Please don't eat the helpful spiders," she requested.
Walter warmed around her, and Hermione took that as an affirmative.
There was a faint rustling, and then a tea tray appeared in front of her with, of course, tea, but also a full English breakfast complete with blessed grilled tomatoes. She hadn't had a full English in what seemed like forever, and her mouth was definitely watering. Beside her breakfast, another plate held a very large, raw steak.
"Looks like they're looking out for the both of us, Walter," Hermione said with a smile as she lifted the plate of steak and held it up.
Walter oozed over her hands slowly, seemed to inspect the offering a moment, then engulfed it whole with an eager whoosh, retreating back into a more cloak-like position save for the soft munching sounds. There wasn't even a single speck of blood left on the plate.
Walter definitely had a one-up on Hagrid's eating habits, for sure. And Ronald's. Definitely Ronald's.
Hermione tucked in to eat her own breakfast, finished her tea, and went to use the loo before getting too ambitious. By the time she'd showered and brushed her teeth, the dishes were already gone, and she kindly thanked the spiders for their diligence.
The spiders seemed deliriously happy to find that she was quite appreciative of all their hard work, and Hermione had grown enough to understand that sometimes simple gratefulness was as good as galleons to some species, as much as not being seen was for house elves.
To each their own, she mused.
Dressing for the day, she decided to forgo the robes and picked out something practical to work in but still appropriate considering the still midsummer-like heat. Choosing a comfy pair of denims and a pretty vest top, Hermione packed a leather satchel with a few necessities and smiled at Minerva's thoughtfulness. Thankfully, the Headmistress was allowing her to live on the grounds just as Hagrid once did and she didn't have to worry about keeping two residences, she was heartily glad she wouldn't be forced to juggle living spaces. The war had made it so she truly appreciated stability and having a decent roof over her head that wasn't a bloody tent (wizarding or otherwise) and living with a pair of lazy, hormonal, smelly boys.
Admittedly, she probably stank too, all things considered, but she at least attempted hygiene on the go. It had given her a much-needed sense of normality in the midst of a brutal war.
Heading out the door, Walter collided with her, wrapping her up before hanging on her shoulders. Oddly, in the summer heat, he seemed to favour her with a cooler temperature, and for that, she could only be grateful. At least she wouldn't be sweating to death in the heat of summer with a cuddly Lethifold familiar.
Cuddly Lethifold. That was definitely going to be an interesting teatime conversation.
Bracing herself against the bright sunlight, she stepped out of her new home and set out to explore the rest of her domain.
It surprised her to see the Potions master sporting a slight tan, having never once seen him anything but pale in all the years she'd known him as a student. He had, apparently, branched out into building a personal greenhouse to grow his own raw ingredients, and the summer had him brewing a number of replacement stocks for Madam Pomfrey as well as places like St Mungos who wanted nothing but the very best potions for their patients.
Watching him milling around in his greenhouse made her remember her mother's due diligence with her herb garden which both made her smile and want to throw things at the same time.
At least they are alive, she thought to herself. They may hate me for what I did, but they're still alive.
"Miss Granger," he drawled, and the familiar rise of hairs along her neck came along with the remembered sound of his voice. "Or is it Madam Weasley, now? I'm afraid I do not bother to keep up with the Prophet's usual rot."
"Hermione, please," she said with a shudder. "And despite what Molly or Ronald might think, I am not ever going to be a Weasley."
He seemed to regard her differently at that, an unfathomable emotion flickering across his black eyes before they went utterly dark. "How terribly unfortunate for the Weasleys. And how very freeing for you."
Hermione tilted her head as she realised that now that she was no longer a student, she could see his dry humour for what it was rather than the negativity that he seemed to ooze during her schooling years.
"Did you build this greenhouse yourself, sir?" she asked, curious.
Snape wrinkled his nose. "Not quite. Minerva insisted on helping, and Pomona had to put in her two knuts 'for the betterment of the poor plants'." He sniffed and cleaned off his spade. "Severus. That is my unfortunate given name, and you may feel free to use it."
Hermione rolled the name around in her mouth. "Severus. Like the Roman emperor. Very stately." She smiled.
Snape's eyebrows knit together as he seemed to reevaluate her yet again.
"Thank you for agreeing to help me with my—" Hermione paused and scratched her head. "Magic problem," she said finally with a slight crease between her brows.
"Magic settling," he said with a crack of his neck. She could hear the faint sound of the bones popping back into place. "A term used for things the healers have no idea how to treat. Tell me, is yours a curse courtesy of a fumbling coworker or friend or due some other reason yet unknown?"
"Unknown," Hermione said. "I spent some time in a Muggle hospital in Australia, and my magic has been unpredictable ever since."
"Amelia said you turned your boss into a hamster."
Hermione winced. "He was, as far as I know, the first victim."
"And the secretary?"
"The third."
"Oh, and who was the second?"
"Gertrude's desk became a tea fountain," Hermione said.
Snape let out a snort and barked a laugh. Hermione felt like she was going to die right there on the spot. Snape laughing? Surely she'd died in her sleep and gone to Hel, Hades, or Niflheim.
Perhaps a little of all of the above.
"I'm sure you could practice on Hagrid's old chair in the teacher's lounge," Snape said dryly. "Minerva would adore having a nice tea fountain in there. I could think of someone else you could turn into a budgie as well and no one would even miss them."
Hermione gasped in horror before she realised Snape was teasing her.
Humour and teasing? Merlin's hairy bum cheeks, she was surely going to expire over such shocking revelations.
"While I'm sure this disappoints you," Snape said drolly, "you'll find that I am not completely devoid of humour now that the war is behind us."
Hermione waved her hand. "No, not disappointed. Simply—surprised."
"I suppose that is only to be expected given our history," he said as he brushed his hands clean of dirt before going to the slop sink to give them a good lathering and wash. "I would rather have tea before we do any magical work," he said. "I fear I have lost track of time with all the pruning today. Such exercises are bound to require concentration, and I dread what mistakes will undoubtedly occur if I do not have at least two strong cups of tea in me."
As they turned to leave the greenhouse, they both practically tripped over a newly arrived cafe table with tea, an assortment of little cakes and biscuits, fresh fruit, and finger sandwiches laid out upon it.
Snape gave her an arched eyebrow of inquiry.
Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't me!"
"Meddling castle," Snape muttered as he sat down. "Start by telling me what led up to when your magic started to—misbehave."
Hermione sat in the opposite chair and took a fortifying sip of her tea. "It all started when I went to Australia to undo the memory charm I placed on my parents to keep them safe during the war…"
Severus, as it turned out, made for surprisingly pleasant company, and she wondered how much of it was due to the lack of war, the lack of students, or simply the ability to do something without having two madmen yanking his chain in opposite directions.
The first few days consisted of mostly discussion rather than actual practice with Severus wanting to know every little detail that led up to her magic's abrupt rebellion.
He was, as to be expected, thorough.
The remedy, however, seemed terribly unclear.
"Alas, there is no fool-proof remedy with which to help your situation, Miss Granger." His fingers were steepled together, brows knit together.
"Hermione," she chided.
"Her-mio-ne," he drawled, the very sound of him rolling her name off his tongue caused a flutter in her stomach. "They often call such things curses because that is how they are viewed, much like with lycanthropy. The loss of one's self-control or magic is utterly terrifying to the common witch or wizard. They cannot view it as anything but a curse. As of now, however, your magic is not attempting to destroy you or anyone else, but who is not to say that a proper fit of temper may not trigger something?"
Hermione frowned. A curse usually implied someone had purposely cast it to attack, at least in her mind, and Remus' condition had always been rated as a disease, not a curse. Snape seemed rather clinical about the description, none of the hostility that had once laden his manner and voice that so many Order meetings had exposed was apparent in his demeanour.
"It is possible that your magic is adjusting to something, its priorities elsewhere and the effects temporary, but I think it best if we treat this as something that is permanent and increasingly dire. To ignore it would be foolhardy, and if you are to be teaching students who specialise in getting under your skin, I would not want you having to explain why you turned someone's beloved son or daughter into an echidna.
Hermione blinked and snorted, waving her hand in dismissal.
I have no desire to destroy a child's life just because they desperately wanted to prove how stupid they can be. Probably good this never happened when I was schooling here. Ronald and Harry probably wouldn't have survived."
"Pity," Snape said. "I would have enjoyed watching you tear them asunder."
Hermione looked up. Snape's face was deadpan, but there was a slight twitch of his lips.
Amusement.
Had he always been so humorous and she'd been so oblivious to it?
Probably, she thought. I've always had a problem focusing on the wrong thing. House elf rights without thinking about how the elves themselves truly felt about it—
Live and learn, she figured. At least she'd figured out that bit before moving on to centaur, goblins, vampires, and more. Werewolves, oddly enough, hadn't wanted her help, even to the point of sending a "delegate" to attack her and put her in her place.
Fenrir Greyback's legacy was still strong amongst the werewolves, and those like Remus were fewer and further between than she'd ever anticipated. She'd thought, albeit wrongly, that they wanted rights like any other sentient creature or being. But the problem was, to them at least, that she wasn't a werewolf and thus could never understand.
Since advocating for the vampires, she'd had a few offers by a few to be Turned, but at least they were giving her a choice in the matter. To them, at least, it was an offer of respect and also a way out should misunderstanding humans attempt to make her life hell because she was advocating for "monsters."
"I think we shall start with simple emotional shielding and work up from there. Ideally, Occlumency would help you, but that is not something to dive into quickly." Snape's fingertips drummed together. "I can give you some reading material, but most of what you need to learn is from the experience of training yourself, exercise, and practice."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you for agreeing to help me in this, Severus."
He shook his head. "No thanks are necessary. As amusing as it would be to have the Ministry transformed into random animals, it is the least I can do to make up for our less than complementary history."
"You needn't—" she began.
"I am fully aware of what a right horror I was during the war, Hermione," he said. "Some by my own choosing, some not. Regardless of penance, this is something I wish to do."
Hermione smiled. "I suppose arguing is a bit silly at this point."
"Also pointless," he said. "I will win, regardless."
Hermione huffed. "Such a git."
His lips tugged into a smile. "And so much more," he rumbled, and that fluttering sensation in Hermione's stomach got even stronger.
She was doomed.
"You must come to know your magic as well as you know yourself," Snape said. "Better, even. Keep the journal so you know what it was you were doing, what your magic felt like at the time, or even what it didn't feel like if you cannot describe it adequately. You must do this for at least a week before we try anything magically so that we have a frame of reference as to what is normal and what is not."
Hermione stared at the huge journal that looked more like a tome from the library.
"You want me to fill that in?" Hermione said, sullen.
"No, I am simply prepared for how you write," Snape said with a sniff.
Hermione slumped. "Touché."
I woke up to odd forest dreams again. Running through the forest as if hunting for something. My magic was all over the place when I woke up. At first, I thought everything was okay until I went outside and saw a number of dodo birds nesting in the straw in the paddock.
What am I going to tell Minerva?
The Magizoologists will be thrilled.
Joy.
I found a family of barber birds trying to nest under the lip of the roof today, and they sang to me sweetly as they tried to find appropriate hair in which to build their nest. I cleaned out my hairbrush and left it out for them, and they sang so happily that they attracted another family of barber birds hoping to find out what all the excitement was about.
I had no idea Hogwarts even had barber birds, but then again I hadn't exactly been looking back then, either. Care of Magical Creatures hadn't exactly been my passion at the time, but I have a feeling it was more because I never really had a safe entry into the field, either.
Hagrid meant well, I'm sure, as he always did, but he could stress his friends out faster than he could defend against his enemies.
The relative peacefulness out where the air is clean and pure seems to have calmed my magic. Severus says that I need to pay more attention to myself and my magic otherwise fixing it the random spurts of accidental magic will be difficult. I wonder how he learned to fix his or even how he came to need to.
I suppose learning about how he came to need the skill isn't why I'm here, but I have to admit I'm curious.
My magic seems to be much calmer, and maybe it is because I am too. Walter really seems to help. His presence is like the companionship I might have missed without him. I don't feel half as lonely as I thought I'd be here without the friends I used to have when I was schooling here, and maybe that is a sign that I have finally settled with myself a little better.
Sometimes I try to get Walter to hang out and do his own thing, and sometimes he does and sometimes not so much. It seems that now that he has me, he's not apt to let me get into trouble without him. Maybe it is because the bond is so new. Amelia says close contact makes the bond stronger in the initial days, but she never said how long that would be.
I did create him a room habitat that emulates the tropical rainforests he would have normally lived in. It's sort of a tropical greenhouse and an exercise in paying more attention to his needs as well as my own. He seems to like it, so far, and he'll float around and hang in the shadows as I work with the plants. It's the perfect environment for rare orchids, so I'm thinking of trying my hand at them.
Mum always had a great hand at them.
Bother, now I'm crying and my magic is causing a rainstorm in my greenhouse. Thoughts of my parents inevitably make me regret everything, even to the point where I think I should have just let them be—even if it would have ultimately killed them to stay. I wanted to believe I did the right thing, but if it was the right thing, why do I feel so horrible about it?
Walter is hovering over me like a rain tarp trying to figure out if I want to be dry or comforted, and I'm not even sure myself. The rain seems to want to drench or power wash me from multiple directions.
I'm going to need to wring myself out after this.
More dreams about searching the forest and the lake. Strange, still. It's always like I'm running around closer to the ground busting through the foliage.
I woke up covered in lake weed.
I'm going to need a bath and a good soak, or I'll end up smelling like Black Lake.
I wonder if I'm sleepwalking. Never had that issue before, but who knows anymore.
My magic feels strangely okay, so I'm not sure what to think. Maybe it's wanting a good soak, too.
I was so embarrassed today. Severus caught me singing Scarborough Fair as I fed the Thestrals, and the next thing I know, he had hair down to his ankles.
I was mortified double times over.
My magic was spiking all over the place, and I just wanted to die on the spot.
Poor Walter was trying to protect me, but he ended up wrapping me up like a burrito and then I couldn't move.
Super embarrassing.
My magic seemed to think creating a second Stonehenge in the Forbidden Forest was what I really wanted, so now there is an (albeit mint) Stonehenge the Second in the forest.
The centaurs are ecstatic. They named me Earthwhisper, painted my face, and adopted me.
I'm still as embarrassed as heck.
My magic is, as usual, completely unrepentant.
Hermione wasn't sure if she trusted her hands with scissors, but thankfully the barber birds were more than happy to oblige her. With a little humming and an inviting chirp, she attracted the female to her with a bit of blueberry tart, and the egg-heavy bird seemed super excited to help even as her mate dove and stabbed at all interlopers that threatened their territory's spoils.
"Please don't fidget," Hermione said as she combed out Snape's hair with the bird's comb-tail.
"I can barely see through all this hair," Snape muttered. "Of course, I'm fidgeting."
"Aren't you the one who said I had to find inner peace?"
"I told you to find it," he grumbled. "I made no claims as to my own status of inner peace."
"Well, let's find it together then," she snapped, rolling her eyes as her temper caused a ficus tree (complete with pot) to show up in Snape's lap.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, tuning out the grumbles as her fingers wove through his hair and guided the bird to the proper length.
The barber bird sang sweetly as it clipped Severus' hair back to the length she remembered so well from her schooling. The long curtain of excess hair fell to the ground, and the ecstatic male drove off the other excited barber birds so he could get the first pick.
"Silly birds," Hermione tutted as she used the female's comb-tail to tame Snape's magically grown hair. The bird sang such a calming, happy tune, that Hermione closed her eyes and let her fingers work Snape's hair like she used to with her mother.
The bird combed and pecked hair into appropriate sized strands, and she wove them together in a trance. The feel of his hair felt like silk to her touch, and she felt her fingers work the strands with a natural push, pull, and tuck.
When she opened her eyes, she gasped as she realised she'd given him a very elaborate war braid that pulled his long hair back in a subtle but stately drape across his back. The strands of long hair in front of his ears fell into an alternating wrap of shimmering silvery spider silk. A tight weave woven silk dangled with the cascade of the lock of hair to a small serpent charm on each side.
She'd inadvertently turned Severus Snape into Elrond, Lord of Rivendell.
"What have you done?" Snape said as she released the female barber bird to collect her spoils from Snape's cut hair. He transfigured a mirror out of a stone and thrust it out to look, his brows lifting into his hairline in surprise.
His jaw worked silently. "I—" His brows knit together. His fingers touched the braids almost reverently.
"You look so elegant," Hermione whispered, noting how his profile stood out against the frame of his hair.
His brows came together, the wrinkles around his eyes heightened. He seemed to struggle with something internally. Finally, he exhaled. "Thank you."
Hermione smiled as her magic calmed. "You're welcome."
We've started working on Occlumency exercises to help me have conscious control over my emotions in the hope that it prevents any further bursts of accidental magic. I've been more at ease with the lessons, and there is this strange sense of peace that comes over me whenever we practice together. It's as if my magic is completely comfortable with his.
I cannot explain it, but his magic is soothing. Like a warm bath after a long day.
Trying to block him from my mind is difficult. When he's actively trying, that sense of his magic is gone, hidden and suppressed by the layers and mazes of walls and misdirection. That sense of comfort I gain from feeling his magic so close to mine is replaced with frustration, and with frustration—
Trelawney came out of her tower to scream at me for breaking all of her crystal balls. I couldn't deny it, but I couldn't exactly confirm intent, either.
She called me a beast and yelled that I should return to the bush like the filthy animal that I was.
Severus practically snarled at her, driving the batty woman back to her tower crying that they were meant and that all they needed to do was consummate their most fated true love and everything would be as it should be.
What a strange woman.
She hasn't changed. Well, she's become even more strange in the head, I think.
Severus said that if it weren't for Dumbledore writing in some clause to protect her position at Hogwarts, they could have fired her long ago. We can thank Umbridge's persecution for that.
I hate to think I share any opinions with Dolores Umbridge, even if it comes to Sybill Trelawney.
Oh great, now it's raining crystal balls.
Sodding wonderful. I hope no one is caught outside during this.
End of Chapter One