Chapter Eight: To Stem the Flow...
It took more than an hour for her grief to completely overcome Hecate. And then she slept peacefully until after dinner. Once she was no longer screaming, Madam Pomfrey had removed the silencing charms and she could now hear voices on the other side of the curtain. One was definitely that of the matron, the other she took a moment to realise belonged to Professor Snape.
"Albus sent me to check on her, Poppy. It is my responsibility as head of Slytherin house..." "But Professor! Surely it would be better for her to talk to someone less... intimidating..." Hecate smirked. Moving in her bed enough that the fussy woman opened the curtains, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth over her ragged throat. "Here you are, dear!" She heard as a vial was pressed to her lips. A liquid ice engulfed her burning vocal chords and she sighed, feeling ready to try her voice once more. "I would like to speak to Professor Snape..." The nurse's eyes bugged at the quiet statement. The young girl then turned pleading eyes on her "Could I leave? Please?" She nodded dumbly. Professor Snape looked bemused for a second before turning to the girl and saying, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "My office, then."
She could sense the hand, millimetres from her back, the entire time she was escorted to the dungeons. She had the impression that he wanted to be reassuring and didn't know quite how. He also had a reputation to uphold. She shook her head, uncaring of his reputation. Somehow, she knew that he was the only one who could understand her enough for her to accept any help. He wasn't coddling or patronising, he just gave patient advice which she knew would help.
She entered the office first, finding comfort rather than disgust in the slime-filled jars that adorned the walls. Taking the seat closest to the struggling fire, she curled her feet under her, reducing her diminutive size even further. She turned her blank eyes to the potions master, suddenly not so certain that this was the face she wanted to see as punisher.
"Miss Aiwe," Snape began, his voice tired and concerned. Hecate jumped at the unexpected tenderness. "I will not punish you for your actions yesterday and this morning. I understand that you are still grieving but you must try to learn to live without letting that grief destroy you. I realise that I cannot force you into friendships, but allowing you to continue as you are is not going to be productive or healthy for either of us so I will make you a deal. Even with your recent slips, your potions grades are still the third best in your year, though your understanding and natural ability is by far the best I have seen in many years. I have arranged with Professor Sprout for you to tutor two of her house in potions for an hour every night. This is non-negotiable." He said, adding the last comment at the look of outrage and indignation on the youngster's face. "As I have said many times this year, it is important for you to be with other people. As well as this, you are to be restricted to studying only in the common room and the library – I will not be happy if I find that you have been anywhere else without my explicit permission and I will warn you now that the Bloody Baron will be keeping an eye on you. I do not want a repeat of last night! Finally, I would like to reinforce the fact that my office is always open to you. Should you need anything – and I mean anything – feel free to come to me. I cannot stress how important it id for you to talk to *somebody* about your feelings. If I find that you have gone against these rules in any way then I will take points and give detentions. Do you understand?"
Hecate nodded meekly; she understood what her professor was doing for her. His last advice had been good – the exercise had made her feel good about herself and eating properly had helped, too. A determined expression gleamed in her dark, pain-filled eyes. "Yes Professor Snape. Thank you."
The potions master stood, motioning to his charge to do the same. Again, he procured a bar of chocolate for her, although this time he didn't force her to consume it. "I expect to see you at every meal and if you remain this skinny I will lock you up in the hospital wing for a week." His smirk at the comment was about as close to a smile as she had ever seen Professor Snape. She took the chocolate and made to leave.
"One more thing before you go," She turned in the doorway. "If you ever want to brew any of those potions I've seen you studying, then I can organise some extra lab time for you. Supervised, of course but I will not intervene unless you want me to." She grinned at her professor, restraining the urge to hug the man. This time she was certain that he smiled, though it was gone before she could really register the expression. "Thank you Professor!" As she heard the door closing behind her, she added a mumbled "for everything."
*** Hecate stuck to her resolve for the entirety of November. She rose every morning with the sun, exercised, showered and practiced at least one spell before the rest of her house were even up. She was the first student to breakfast every morning and had left before most others had arrived, although she always made sure that at least one teacher (usually Snape) had seen her eat before leaving the hall at a run. She practiced some more before classes, read her Nordic History through lunch and dinner and had her homework, extra essays and spells done before bed. She had yet to approach Snape about extra lab time, since he had been in a particularly bad mood since the Quidditch match, but tutored the two Hufflepuffs (Sally- Anne Perks* and Susan Bones) every night without fail.
Hecate had not been to the now infamous Quidditch match. She had little care for the sport and had instead spent the silent hours alone in her dorm translating the first few pages of The Subtle Magic of the Runes – knowing that there were few chances she would get to study the precious text with her housemates gone – she didn't trust anyone, except perhaps Professors Snape and Togram, with her most beloved possession.
Since Halloween night and her subsequent breakdown, Hecate had managed to get over her father's death somewhat. She still prayed for his, and her brothers', spirits each night and she still felt the gaping hole in her chest but the wound had now stopped bleeding. In time, she figured that it would fix itself and be no more than a scar across her heart, but for now she would cope with the open wound.
The progress she had made had, in part, allowed her distraction during the Quidditch. Had she not been able to heal that tiny amount Samhain night, she would not have been able to even *look* at her book without breaking down. It was for this reason that she was oblivious to the excitement caused by Harry's bewitched broom and Slytherin's spectacular failure. But Hecate didn't care for Quidditch and every time the game was discussed within hearing distance of her, she walked away.
She could understand (though not partake in) the obsessive nature of Quidditch fans. What upset her was that it was not really the game that everyone was obsessed with, but Gryffindor's star seeker. She disliked hero- worship, but could summon nothing greater than pity toward the messy-haired youth. She knew what it was like to be known because of your loss – she had seen the looks she was getting in Diagon Alley and was certain that she had been in the papers, though she came nowhere near the Daily Prophet for weeks. She hated what little recognition she had, and could only imagine the pain that Harry felt at being worshipped for living when his parents had died. She knew that there were differences between their situations; he had barely know his family while she had loved them for almost eleven years before they were taken away, but she knew that she would give anything to have them back and was certain that Harry wanted nothing more than his family, whatever Professor Snape might seem to think.
It wasn't until November was drawing to a close that Hecate was suddenly faced with a truth she wasn't ready to hear which caused her resolve to shatter...
*************End Chapter Eight*************
* She is, as far as I can tell from the books, not given a house, so I took the liberty of sorting her. Correct me if I'm wrong and I'll change the name to a known Hufflepuff
A/n – wonderful! I am back in the flow though I don't promise it to last as I have maths coursework and other such mundane details to attend to. I hope you enjoy this chapter, though it is really quite plotless in the latter half I needed the time to pass and could think of no other way to do so. Christmas is only a chapter or so away – that will make for angsty reading I promise!
Anyone figured out the puns in the names yet? They're quite funny but I'm afraid only insane Tolkien fans will get one of them. You have to love linguistic puns. Talking of which I cannot believe that I never noticed the pun in Diagon Alley before! I think I'm just too clever to see the really simple things like that! (I wish – I'm probably just being dense ;) )
Constructive reviewing is always appreciated (although the "this is brilliant!" ones are great for the ego) and flames will be used to keep my mug of tea warm while I type :D
Blessings, Hex.
It took more than an hour for her grief to completely overcome Hecate. And then she slept peacefully until after dinner. Once she was no longer screaming, Madam Pomfrey had removed the silencing charms and she could now hear voices on the other side of the curtain. One was definitely that of the matron, the other she took a moment to realise belonged to Professor Snape.
"Albus sent me to check on her, Poppy. It is my responsibility as head of Slytherin house..." "But Professor! Surely it would be better for her to talk to someone less... intimidating..." Hecate smirked. Moving in her bed enough that the fussy woman opened the curtains, she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came forth over her ragged throat. "Here you are, dear!" She heard as a vial was pressed to her lips. A liquid ice engulfed her burning vocal chords and she sighed, feeling ready to try her voice once more. "I would like to speak to Professor Snape..." The nurse's eyes bugged at the quiet statement. The young girl then turned pleading eyes on her "Could I leave? Please?" She nodded dumbly. Professor Snape looked bemused for a second before turning to the girl and saying, in a surprisingly gentle voice, "My office, then."
She could sense the hand, millimetres from her back, the entire time she was escorted to the dungeons. She had the impression that he wanted to be reassuring and didn't know quite how. He also had a reputation to uphold. She shook her head, uncaring of his reputation. Somehow, she knew that he was the only one who could understand her enough for her to accept any help. He wasn't coddling or patronising, he just gave patient advice which she knew would help.
She entered the office first, finding comfort rather than disgust in the slime-filled jars that adorned the walls. Taking the seat closest to the struggling fire, she curled her feet under her, reducing her diminutive size even further. She turned her blank eyes to the potions master, suddenly not so certain that this was the face she wanted to see as punisher.
"Miss Aiwe," Snape began, his voice tired and concerned. Hecate jumped at the unexpected tenderness. "I will not punish you for your actions yesterday and this morning. I understand that you are still grieving but you must try to learn to live without letting that grief destroy you. I realise that I cannot force you into friendships, but allowing you to continue as you are is not going to be productive or healthy for either of us so I will make you a deal. Even with your recent slips, your potions grades are still the third best in your year, though your understanding and natural ability is by far the best I have seen in many years. I have arranged with Professor Sprout for you to tutor two of her house in potions for an hour every night. This is non-negotiable." He said, adding the last comment at the look of outrage and indignation on the youngster's face. "As I have said many times this year, it is important for you to be with other people. As well as this, you are to be restricted to studying only in the common room and the library – I will not be happy if I find that you have been anywhere else without my explicit permission and I will warn you now that the Bloody Baron will be keeping an eye on you. I do not want a repeat of last night! Finally, I would like to reinforce the fact that my office is always open to you. Should you need anything – and I mean anything – feel free to come to me. I cannot stress how important it id for you to talk to *somebody* about your feelings. If I find that you have gone against these rules in any way then I will take points and give detentions. Do you understand?"
Hecate nodded meekly; she understood what her professor was doing for her. His last advice had been good – the exercise had made her feel good about herself and eating properly had helped, too. A determined expression gleamed in her dark, pain-filled eyes. "Yes Professor Snape. Thank you."
The potions master stood, motioning to his charge to do the same. Again, he procured a bar of chocolate for her, although this time he didn't force her to consume it. "I expect to see you at every meal and if you remain this skinny I will lock you up in the hospital wing for a week." His smirk at the comment was about as close to a smile as she had ever seen Professor Snape. She took the chocolate and made to leave.
"One more thing before you go," She turned in the doorway. "If you ever want to brew any of those potions I've seen you studying, then I can organise some extra lab time for you. Supervised, of course but I will not intervene unless you want me to." She grinned at her professor, restraining the urge to hug the man. This time she was certain that he smiled, though it was gone before she could really register the expression. "Thank you Professor!" As she heard the door closing behind her, she added a mumbled "for everything."
*** Hecate stuck to her resolve for the entirety of November. She rose every morning with the sun, exercised, showered and practiced at least one spell before the rest of her house were even up. She was the first student to breakfast every morning and had left before most others had arrived, although she always made sure that at least one teacher (usually Snape) had seen her eat before leaving the hall at a run. She practiced some more before classes, read her Nordic History through lunch and dinner and had her homework, extra essays and spells done before bed. She had yet to approach Snape about extra lab time, since he had been in a particularly bad mood since the Quidditch match, but tutored the two Hufflepuffs (Sally- Anne Perks* and Susan Bones) every night without fail.
Hecate had not been to the now infamous Quidditch match. She had little care for the sport and had instead spent the silent hours alone in her dorm translating the first few pages of The Subtle Magic of the Runes – knowing that there were few chances she would get to study the precious text with her housemates gone – she didn't trust anyone, except perhaps Professors Snape and Togram, with her most beloved possession.
Since Halloween night and her subsequent breakdown, Hecate had managed to get over her father's death somewhat. She still prayed for his, and her brothers', spirits each night and she still felt the gaping hole in her chest but the wound had now stopped bleeding. In time, she figured that it would fix itself and be no more than a scar across her heart, but for now she would cope with the open wound.
The progress she had made had, in part, allowed her distraction during the Quidditch. Had she not been able to heal that tiny amount Samhain night, she would not have been able to even *look* at her book without breaking down. It was for this reason that she was oblivious to the excitement caused by Harry's bewitched broom and Slytherin's spectacular failure. But Hecate didn't care for Quidditch and every time the game was discussed within hearing distance of her, she walked away.
She could understand (though not partake in) the obsessive nature of Quidditch fans. What upset her was that it was not really the game that everyone was obsessed with, but Gryffindor's star seeker. She disliked hero- worship, but could summon nothing greater than pity toward the messy-haired youth. She knew what it was like to be known because of your loss – she had seen the looks she was getting in Diagon Alley and was certain that she had been in the papers, though she came nowhere near the Daily Prophet for weeks. She hated what little recognition she had, and could only imagine the pain that Harry felt at being worshipped for living when his parents had died. She knew that there were differences between their situations; he had barely know his family while she had loved them for almost eleven years before they were taken away, but she knew that she would give anything to have them back and was certain that Harry wanted nothing more than his family, whatever Professor Snape might seem to think.
It wasn't until November was drawing to a close that Hecate was suddenly faced with a truth she wasn't ready to hear which caused her resolve to shatter...
*************End Chapter Eight*************
* She is, as far as I can tell from the books, not given a house, so I took the liberty of sorting her. Correct me if I'm wrong and I'll change the name to a known Hufflepuff
A/n – wonderful! I am back in the flow though I don't promise it to last as I have maths coursework and other such mundane details to attend to. I hope you enjoy this chapter, though it is really quite plotless in the latter half I needed the time to pass and could think of no other way to do so. Christmas is only a chapter or so away – that will make for angsty reading I promise!
Anyone figured out the puns in the names yet? They're quite funny but I'm afraid only insane Tolkien fans will get one of them. You have to love linguistic puns. Talking of which I cannot believe that I never noticed the pun in Diagon Alley before! I think I'm just too clever to see the really simple things like that! (I wish – I'm probably just being dense ;) )
Constructive reviewing is always appreciated (although the "this is brilliant!" ones are great for the ego) and flames will be used to keep my mug of tea warm while I type :D
Blessings, Hex.