So, it should be noted that I'm currently working on chapter 15 in this fic. I don't think I have much to say other than thank you for the reviews, follows, and favorites.
~MJB~
Chapter 12 - It's the Apocalypse!
July 4th, 1992 (Saturday)
Location: Leaky Cauldron
Meissa is seated, with her godfather, in the corner of Leaky Cauldron. She has selected a seat that ultimately limits access to herself with her godfather forming an extra barrier. The raven haired girl had grown bored in the past fifteen minutes, long fingers twisting around the star diamond stud on her right ear - she actually has to force herself to leave the feather earring alone. Every time she catches wind of the aroma wafting from the kitchen she can hear her stomach rumble in response.
Next to her, Severus is the ideal picture of calm - which is something she never thought would go in a sentence together. It had taken some time to convince her godfather to make an effort in cleaning up his appearance before leaving Nigri Sanctuarium. For the first time since they've arrived home from Hogwarts, his hair has been washed free of the accumulated oil from constantly attending to his potions. He had chosen to tie his hair back in a low ponytail - she's fond of this style mostly for the fact it tends to make seem less imposing.
She cycles through several nervous ticks as she waits for Hermione or Daphne to arrive. Meissa puts her fingers together, crossing and uncrossing them as she fidgets. The tips of her nails occasionally tracing the Celtic patterns on her thumb ring. When she catches herself tracing the crest on her signet ring she must remind herself that it is under a strong glamour. She had originally thought to make it seem like there isn't a ring there but a comment from her godfather made her realize a fact.
A glamour would not hide the touch of metal in a handshake.
With an unhappy noise she forces herself to still her movements, idly straightening the sleeves of the unbuttoned black and grey flannel shirt. Her hand double checking that she has her wand secured in its holster. Reassured that she has her wand, she tugs on the dark grey shirt she is wearing beneath the flannel, briefly wondering about the 'Never tell me the odds' phrase contrasting the dark material. The witch notes, with a grimace, that the palm of her hands is slick with sweat and wipes them dry on the dark blue jeans she paired with the shirts.
She actually regrets her initiative because she wants to pass the time by braiding her hair. She had thought it would be best to braid her hair while its still somewhat wet. Someone, Daphne she thinks, had told her it would be better to braid the unruly mess while it is somewhat tamed by the recent shower. Unfortunately, it gives her one less thing to do while she waits for her friends and, a glance at her godfather confirms this, Severus is not in a talkative mood.
In the past fifteen minutes - or is it twenty now? - Meissa has gotten a few looks from the other patrons. She has to assume it's because of the non-magical outfit she is wearing. It has not escaped her notice that literally every other person is dressed in a traditional robe and a traveling cloak. A glance at their feet would confirm to the young Lady that they are wearing boots. Her godfather is wearing his usual outfit - which consists of a black coat over a white shirt and a pair of black trousers. Not exactly a traditional wizarding outfit but usually his cloak covers majority of his clothes.
In an effort to distract herself she draws one of the menus closer to herself, perusing the options for later. She vaguely remembers plans to have a midday meal before heading to Hermione's. She thinks it is so that her godfather can have the opportunity to acquaint himself with the Grangers - something about having to make frequent visits. She reckons it's just him being a worrywart.
"Meissa!"
She looks up to see a familiar mane of hair rushing through the crowd. The young Lady barely has time to register this before she abandons her seat and rounds the table. Meissa has just braced herself when the rushing Gryffindor throws herself into the raven haired girl's arms with an excited laugh.
With a soft laugh she squeezes Hermione close, wayward brown hair filling her vision as she basks in the hug. She didn't realized how much she missed the Gryffindor until she's right there in front of her. But, before long, she releases Hermione as she suppresses the urge to shudder and run for the nearest exit. Meissa frowns to herself, unhappy about how short the hug had been, but finds that she's unwilling to initiate another so soon.
Before she can sink into a bout of self-loathing she spies the approach of a couple. A tall man with dark brown hair - he has somewhat of a buzzed cut along the sides with longer strands combed to one side. He's dressed in a fashion that seems casual and yet formal with a button up shirt with its' sleeves folded to the elbows and a pair of trousers not unlike her own. Other than that, he's much too far away from her to make out any more details.
Her first thought of him is that he's rather plain. Barely a heartbeat later she tells herself to not judge.
Next to the man, whom she assumes is Hermione's father, is a woman with long dark brown wavy hair. The shade of brown is closer to Hermione's dark golden brown - it'd be fair to say that Hermione's hair has some hint of red. It's rather plain to Meissa that her friend has inherited her mother's hair - although it seems like Hermione's mother is better able to manage the craziness of her own hair from the way her hair falls in loose ringlets. There's a graceful air about her as she moves - it reminds her vaguely of her Aunt Cissy, not that she'll ever tell her godmother that. She suspects her aunt would throw a fit to discover that her friend's mother is capable of moving like her.
While she has been distracted by her thoughts, the couple manages to arrive at the table - sparing a glance around. The woman gives Meissa a sort of smile that gives her a sense of warmth as she brushes Hermione's wayward hair from her face.
"You must be Meissa," the woman says with that same smile on her face, "Hermione has told us so much about you."
"Good things, I hope," rolls off Meissa's tongue before she can really stop them. She grimaces at the words and hopes she won't be judged too harshly for it.
"Songbird has been singing nothing but praises about you," the man scoffs good naturedly. Up close she can see that his face has a bit of a strong jaw line, his dark eyes meeting hers jovially. She could see a little bit of Hermione in him - or rather, she can see him in Hermione's features.
"Songbird?" she questions the Gryffindor, getting a blush and a mumbled response.
"Ahem."
Oops.
"Pardon," she excuses, stepping back and bringing everyone's attention to her godfather who has been standing by their table. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, this is my legal guardian, Severus Snape. He's our Potion Professor at our school," she introduces, getting a gobsmacked look from Hermione.
Ah.
So there was something she had forgotten to inform Hermione about.
Whoops.
"Ah, hello," Mr. Granger offers his hand to the Potion Master, shaking hands firmly with the raven haired man. "You both can call me Henry," he informs them. "And this is my wife, Jean."
"Meissa," Hermione whispers as the adults sat down at their table, "you didn't mention that Professor Snape is your guardian!"
"He's my godfather," the raven haired girl whispers back. "I didn't think it'd be a good idea to say anything since the boys had their theories."
"Okay, I get not saying at first but still!"
Meissa rolls her eyes at Hermione's rather understandable freak out.
"He's not going to dock you points if you do something he distastes," she reassures.
"No but I might get ideas," Severus calls over to the girls, causing Hermione to flush while Meissa simply gives him a wide cheeky grin.
She slips into a seat next to her godfather who returns to her the menu she had dropped in her haste.
"So, it's to our understanding that this would be your first trip to the - what's the word you use?" Henry looks at his daughter.
"Most tend to use muggle," Snape supplies before Hermione could.
"I prefer to use either mundane or non-magical," Meissa chimes in, peering over her menu.
"Non-magical does seem to imply it's either a magical or non-magical world," Jean remarks thoughtfully. "The same could be said about mundane."
"Mum," Hermione all but whines.
"You're right," Meissa looks at her friend for a second before she focuses her full attention at Hermione's mother. "Mundane or Non-Magical is hardly better but the word Muggle is almost a slur and I don't like that. So, I'm sorry but I rather use the lesser of two evils."
Silence fills the table after Meissa's outburst. The twelve years old shifts uncomfortably until her godfather settles his arm across her shoulders - the weight anchoring in the moment. Jean looks thoughtful, as if she's turning over Meissa's words repeatedly in her own head. Hermione is smiling reassuringly at Meissa, having been originally been the one who heard the whole tirade once before.
Henry, on the other hand, simply sips his glass of water. "So," he starts once he sees that no one has any intention of breaking the silence. "First time or no?"
"Er… I have limited exposure," Meissa remarks after trying to figure out what he could possibly mean by that. Hermione's mouthing 'Mundane' to her helped a tiny bit. "Uncle Sev has taken me shopping a few times," she elaborates, gesturing to her guardian. Receiving a look of shock from Hermione at the casual term she has for her godfather.
Henry turns to Severus at this, probably intending to ask some questions, so Meissa takes this opportunity to lean across to Hermione. "Is this going to be weird," she asks the other girl, ignoring the distant roar of the Floo network working.
"It passed weird ages ago."
"Oh."
"What did I miss?" they suddenly hear, prompting the girls to look up.
"Daphne!" Hermione hops out of her seat and gave the other girl a hug. "I'm glad you could make it."
"I am as well," Daphne returns the hug, perhaps not as tight as Hermione's but the gesture was at least progress.
When Hermione releases Daphne, the blonde turns towards Meissa who has been waiting off to the side for the exchange to end.
"Meissa," the blonde starts before she gets swept up into an embrace by the raven haired girl. The action startles Daphne so much she doesn't return the gesture until she feels Meissa's grasp loosening. Realizing what's happening the blonde wraps her arms securely around the other girl - when did she get so tall? - and holds her close. The warm breath washing over the blonde's neck prompts a slight shiver from her but still she holds onto Meissa.
The shock of getting a hug from Meissa fades as she cherishes the warmth of her friend for as long as she could.
Longer than she ever had before.
Meissa willingly giving Daphne a hug - and a long one at that - was startling to both Snape and Hermione.
Was the apocalypse happening?