We all know I'm horrid at updates. Will try to make sure it's at least one a year! ;)
Chapter 11 - Chocomenti
The next few weeks in school were practically idyllic. At least, in the sense that nothing NEW and terrible was happening. Harry was still having nightmares – either asleep or waking while meeting with Snape. Umbridge was still storming around on a power trip. The DA was still meeting in secret and fearful of being caught. Things were terrible, really, but everyone knew things were going to get worse. Hermione was going to take advantage of the calm before the storm.
The young witch was practicing or reading constantly. Her boys became so used to this if they needed her, they knew they only had to check four places: the library, the common room, the Room of Requirement, or by the lake. Hermione was, in their view, taking the work of the DA a little too far. Or, in other words, she was just being Hermione.
She, on the other hand, knew that they would be surprised if they knew what she was really doing. For one thing, Hermione wanted to be ready to show Bellatrix that she could perform the same spell with different intent. She did not know how to gauge her success, however, as an inanimate object would not tell her how it felt, and she wasn't sure if she could sense the difference in her spell casting. Thus, poor Crookshanks got recruited into being a test subject.
Hermione began her experiments by using a simple hair-brushing spell. Crookshanks liked being groomed and allowed her to use this spell on him almost daily. Hermione performed it first with warm, loving intention – drawing upon the memory of baking cookies with her mother at Christmas when she was young. Crookshanks purred and arched his back as his hair became magically neater.
Then Hermione tried to be a little rough and clumsy, thinking about Hagrid and his large hands holding a tiny teacup. Crookshanks' response was to raise his rump, and to stalk in a small circle, tail twitching madly. He didn't seem to enjoy the grooming as much, but he didn't try to leave either.
Hermione waited a few days to try the next iteration of her spell. She wasn't sure how she wanted to handle a more negative intention – she didn't want to harm her beloved cat, but she did want to try to be more forceful. In the end, Crookshanks himself formed the intent behind the spell. When she'd called for him, he appeared from under Hermione's bed, hair sticking up everywhere, looking like he'd stuck his paw in a muggle electric socket.
Hermione began laughing at him, and when he'd turned and given her an aggrieved look, she cast the spell on him. However, her laughter, combined with her thoughts of electricity, turned the spell into a mischievous one, and the magical brush released static electricity at every stroke. At first Crookshanks ignored it and tried to enjoy his grooming session. After a few strokes, however, he began jumping slightly and his purr became more staccato. This made Hermione giggle harder, and in turn the spell created more shocks for the poor cat. After a few more seconds of this, Crookshanks bolted to the door, turned and yowled at Hermione, and disappeared down the stairs.
The delighted witch lay back on her bed and chortled, and when she'd finished giggling at her cat's discomfort, she did a quick fist pump in the air. She had done it – she had performed a spell with three different intentions that the recipient had clearly felt. She wasn't sure yet how to hide her own emotions – each time the spell had tapped into very sincere feelings, but she was progressing.
Despite the fact that Hermione was eager to meet with her Professor Black again, she was surprised when she opened her plant book on the morning of the Valentine's Day trip to Hogsmeade and read, Tonight. Same time, same place. Be ready to work. Impress me. – L.B.
Hermione's heart was racing all through the trip to Hogsmeade. At one point, Luna noticed and inquired innocently if Hermione was eager to see her crush. If you only knew… Hermione wondered again if Luna was insightful or just lucky – it was uncanny how her off-hand remarks always landed so close to home.
The late afternoon and evening provided a needed distraction in the form of Harry's girl troubles with Cho Chang. His date had proved disastrous, and Hermione was left to pick up the pieces, as well as to try to fend off or undo the horrible "advice" Ron was dispensing.
"Girls, you know, mate, they don't make any sense at all." Ron nodded to himself sagely. "They don't know when they have a good thing right there." At this he glanced at Hermione.
"Bollocks, Harry. Cho just isn't ready to date, and it doesn't have to do with you at all. She likes you, but she also knows that you will understand what she's going through. And she's still processing her grief. You have to be patient." Hermione shot a pointed look at Ron.
Harry continued to stare glumly ahead, looking at nothing. Obviously neither Hermione nor Ron were really getting through, though they continued to try for another hour or so. Finally an exhausted Hermione took herself to bed, whereupon she promptly remembered that she had her own date that night. There was no sleep for her in the hours that followed, just anxious anticipation.
Midnight found Hermione once again pacing a small circle into the boathouse floor. She was trying to be alert, but her mind kept distracting her with nervousness about being able to perform. Impress me. Lordy. What a directive.
As the young witch turned towards the door of the boathouse, she felt a strange warmth accompanied by an itching, tickling sensation under the skin around her ribs. She squirmed uncomfortably, and then realized. She's here. Exiting the boathouse, Hermione confirmed her suspicions. Lyra Black was waiting just outside, her lips curled into a very large mischievous smirk. Her flowing hair sported a bright red streak tonight, and she twirled her wand in one hand casually. Hermione's heart jumped abruptly, and not just from the surprise of seeing her. Hermione could see that she was Lyra, but Bellatrix seemed awfully present in those eyes as well.
"Felt that, did you?" Lyra openly grinned now.
Hermione nodded. "Maybe you could teach me that – it'd be handy to use to wake up my roommates."
"You already know the spell, young one. It's the way you form it that counts. I can't teach that to you directly. I can only help guide you – the intention has to come from you, and it is as individual as our own personalities."
"Oh. I see." The young witch was, as usual, startled at the abrupt shift from playful to business. The normally eager student tried to turn her own thoughts to learning and found it unexpectedly difficult. She took a deep breath.
"Now, tell me what you have accomplished since our last meeting." The raven-haired witch shifted her weight onto one leg, hip thrust out with her non-wand hand resting lightly akimbo. Hermione's teenage mind raced around like a static-shocked Crookshanks, and she tried not to let her eyes bug out of her head. Merlin, and she's wearing those tall boots again.
Voice unsteady, Hermione stuttered out, "Umm… Well, I did manage to try out a spell with three different intentions, and it seemed like the recipient felt all three."
Bellatrix nodded, seemingly impressed, if only slightly. "Show me."
Hermione froze, her confidence fled. Why hadn't she realized she'd need to demonstrate? Why hadn't she prepared better?
"Uhh… well… uhh…" Stuttering was her new communication, it seemed.
"What is the problem? Show me what you can do." The older witch was being patient and encouraging, but Hermione sensed that it wouldn't last.
"I, uh, practiced on my cat. It's a hair-brushing spell." Mumbling seemed to be also a good option.
Bellatrix threw her head back and laughed delightedly. "Of course! I love it!" Eyes dancing, Bellatrix aimed her own wand at her head and immediately her straight black hair became incredibly mussed.
"This, my dear, is what your teacher looks like when she gets out of bed. Have at it." Her smirk and delight seemed to deepen as Hermione blushed, unable to get certain thoughts out of her head.
Holy crap. She wants me to brush her hair. Oh dear Merlin, I don't think I can do this.
"Roxanna. Please proceed." Serious now, still sparkling eyes, but serious.
Hermione took a deep breath and walked around to look at Bellatrix from the back. Maybe if she focused on her hair only, and was not distracted by her eyes, her smile… Working hard to conjure up images of her mother in the kitchen, of the warmth of her home, Hermione cast the spell.
Bellatrix's hair began to be straightened by an unseen brush, strokes long and gentle. She turned to Hermione, her lips pursed thoughtfully.
"Warm, caring, a mother's touch. Very nice. You must have a mother who cares for you very much."
The young witch gave a small smile and nodded. "Yes, I do."
Bellatrix nodded. "How very lucky for you." Her voice was quiet… sad? "Again." She turned around and the moment was lost.
Hermione thought of Hagrid and his clumsiness.
"Ouch! Hey now!" The older witch whirled around with indignation. "What are you trying to do to me?"
Hermione couldn't suppress her smirk at her normally composed teacher's discomfort. "I'm sorry. The cat wasn't too fond of that one either." The narrow-eyed glare she received didn't change her grin one bit. "Get ready for the next one. It might be a bit painful."
Bellatrix raised one eyebrow. "You think I can't handle it? I doubt your idea of pain, especially towards your cat, is anything that would bother me. Oh Great Rescuer of Mice." It was the raven-haired woman's turn to smirk.
"Ok, well, you've been warned!" Hermione raised her wand to cast the spell, expecting Bellatrix to turn around again. She did not, and merely continued to stare into Hermione's eyes. Oh bollocks.
Hermione shut her own eyes, thinking of her cat's hair standing on end and her own mirth. But as she cast the spell, the image of the beautiful woman before her, with her slightly mussed hair and her piercing gaze, was what her mind held onto. She could tell right away that the spell was not quite the same. There were still sparks, still electricity, but not the playful static that she'd been aiming for. This was a deeper, running current, and it made her heart pound and her blood pool.
The young witch opened her eyes, suddenly fearful of the consequences she might face. Bellatrix's eyes were shut, her chest heaving. That was too much. I shouldn't have done that.
Hermione didn't know what to say to break the moment, but that didn't stop her mouth from moving. "Your hair looks, um, very nice. Did I do ok?"
Heavy lids opened slowly, and Bellatrix looked carefully at Hermione. There was silence before she spoke, and a long, long look. "Yes, I would say that you did."
Hermione tried to show some happiness and pride, as she usually did. Forcing herself to bounce slightly, she smiled at Bellatrix. The dark witch did not smile back. Hermione stopped bouncing, and waited nervously.
"It's Valentine's Day, young one. Perhaps the next time you do that spell, try not to think about the latest, undoubtedly very handsome, boy that you have a crush on." The words came out light, but the gaze was cutting.
Hermione faltered. "I wasn't, I didn't mean to…" She trailed off. She didn't know how she could explain without revealing too much of herself.
"I mean… There isn't any crush. But it HAS been a crazy day. All day long I've had to listen to dramatic girls or sulking boys complain about their pathetic dates in Hogsmeade."
Bellatrix's eyes became lighter. Tilting her head, she asked gently, "And what, no pathetic dates for you? Roxanna doesn't do dating?"
"No, not really. I prefer my books." The brunette looked down, shaking her head emphatically. She didn't see her teacher gazing at her curls bobbing and swaying.
"Right now, you mean. Sooner or later someone will catch your eye." The older woman spoke firmly, sounding like all adults when channeling their age and wisdom to be comforting towards the trials of youth.
Hermione looked up and straight into Bellatrix's eyes. "Maybe. You could be right." She held her gaze.
Bellatrix inhaled slowly, then let out the breath with a wolfish grin and a raised eyebrow. "I'm always right."
Hermione could feel her stomach clench, her muscles quiver. Bring it down, H, bring it down. "So, I have a question for you, oh amazing teacher."
Both brows arched at that. "Oh? Do you?"
"Yes. I've been working hard on my aguamenti and thinking a lot about ferrumenti, though I haven't tried it yet. I'd like to know if there is a chocomenti?"
"Chocomenti? What on earth is that?" Now her teacher looked thoroughly perplexed, and Hermione let out a small sigh of relief that she had been able to shift their tone.
"You know. Pulling the element of chocolate straight from the ground and air? Surely that's possible?" Hermione received an amused but incredulous look at that.
"Ha ha. No, of course not. BUT… There is one teacher at this school who has both a chocolate fixation AND likes to sleep with open windows. Shall we raid his stores?"
Hermione paused, then nodded delightedly.
"Accio chocolates!"
The young witch wasn't sure whose window her elder was pointing her wand towards, but she vowed to figure out which professor would be waking up unhappy in the morning. In the meantime, she had to dodge the small box of chocolates whizzing towards them.
Bellatrix easily caught the box, opened it, and took one out for herself, and one for Hermione. She then handed both the piece of chocolate and the box to Hermione. Holding out her own piece, she waited for young witch to do the same. The dark-haired witch then gently touched her sweet to Hermione's, in a sort of small toast.
"To a job well done. And to the hard work you will do before we meet again."
Hermione nodded, tapping her piece of chocolate to Bellatrix's. "To finding another spell to practice on."
The two women put their chocolates in their mouths, Hermione chewing enthusiastically and Bellatrix sensuously savoring her own piece. Just as Hermione began to be mesmerized by the slow movements of her jaw, the raven-haired witch turned her around, pushed lightly on her back, and whispered, "Good night. Go on now."
When Hermione turned back around to thank her, the dark witch was gone. Shaking her head, Hermione returned to the castle with her prize in her hand and sweet taste in her mouth.