AN: My abject apologies for taking 6 months to post! If you are still reading this story, thank you for your patience and support. I am still working on this story and it's slowly coming together, hopefully with more regular posts on the horizon once again. Hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know your thoughts!
"Can you pick up some of the white moss from the alder tree? I'll use it to protect the soil in Greenhouse four," Neville pointed at the large tree to her right as he crouched down to gently pick on the yellow mushrooms growing on a small tree stump.
Living at Hogwarts and having access to the Forbidden Forest was a herbologist's dream come true. The specific flora and magical properties of the soil allowed for the growth of certain herbs and mushrooms year round, preserved under snow and ice, and blooming for longer periods of time than in most locations and types of soil. Like this Cantharellus cibarius that he picked for the potion mistress and himself for their experiments. And his ramen of course, it was absolutely delicious after all. Perhaps Hermione will at some point be comfortable enough to say what was really on her mind if she picked enough ingredients.
He wasn't disappointed when after another half an hour of walking through the forest, they came to a clearing and set down a blanket for a quick lunch, the weather thankfully holding out, the spring sun warming up already. Hermione allowed herself a few quiet moments before taking a fortifying breath and looking at Neville.
"I was wondering whether you would be able to help me with something," she began, encouraged when Neville just inclined his head for her to go on and took a bite of his sandwich. "You see, the reason why I quit working at the Ministry and travelled was because of the consequences of an attack," she began, explaining the incident itself with the harpy, the things she learned about herself since and how it was impacting her daily life.
Neville's brows rose steadily on his forehead as he listened to the fascinating encounter and the traits she had developed. "So…does that mean you could tell me for example if there are any animals around us by smell? How strong are your senses?" he asked.
Hermione thought about it for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Somewhat. I can smell the grass, flowers, the honey from the nearby beehive, but I can't smell too far. I think if I was to let my wings come out and allow the creature side of me to come out more, my senses would sharpen. To be honest, I've never really allowed it to take over, after the initial changes" she admitted.
Neville nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich silently while he contemplated her words. "I'm sadly no expert on magical creatures but even I know how rare harpies are. I promise to keep your secret. How can I help?" he asked.
Hermione offered a small self-deprecating smile. "Well, I can't exactly test out and observe my traits at the same time. I was wondering whether it would be safe for me to maybe try them out somewhere here, with someone who would keep me safe," she offered, sure he would understand why she was talking to him in particular.
Neville's answering smile was earnest. "I'd be honoured," he promised. "What would you like to try first? How do you exactly shed the control?" he asked curiously.
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure, to be honest. I think I'll start by stretching my wings out and testing them. I don't even know if I can fly actually," she admitted.
"That would be very cool," he grinned and finished his sandwich before taking out his notebook. "How about I capture some of the details such as if you can fly, and if so how high, those sort of things. That might help, right?" he asked.
Hermione nodded and got to her feet, shedding her simple black blazer to revel a strappy vest underneath that would allow her wings the freedom. "I'll cast a few charms around the area so we're not disturbed and then give it a try," she added and turned around to walk the perimeter and cast the spells that came to her so naturally even after so many years since their time on the run.
Neville grabbed another sandwich to eat while he waited for her to finish, fascinated by the scale of her tattoo. He'd caught a glimpse of it, they all had, and Kyra once told him that it ran the whole length of Hermione's back. They've been friends for a good couple of decades and he never questioned her over this. Perhaps it wasn't his place, or so he thought. For Hermione to trust him so implicitly was new, but not unwelcome. He had always respected her and now knew he could trust her with his own life if need be. It was a comforting thought to have someone beside Kyra that he could rely on in this way, as his circle of friends remained very small due to the isolation up in Scotland. If there was one trait he admired about Hermione, it was her loyalty. He wondered whether the harpy within her influenced her personality, but as he considered the past few years, she only appeared a bit more reclusive. There were none of the traits of fury and vengefulness one would associate with the magical creature.
Then again that wasn't exactly true. He could still remember the terrible acne boils that appeared on Marietta Edgecombe's forehead after ratting the DA out to Umbridge. Hermione had an inherent vicious streak born out of her protectiveness even during her youth. He wondered whether it remained just as strong or whether the harpy fed into it at all.
"Okay, I'll step back. They can be a bit overwhelming and I wouldn't want to smack you in the face. Kyra wouldn't forgive me," she grinned, trying to bring humour through her nervousness.
Neville chuckled obligingly. "To be fair, not many people can say they've been smacked in the face by a harpy, or even a partial one, so I'll take it as a story to tell my kids one day," he winked.
Hermione merely shook her head at the cheek and took a deep breathe, allowing her wings to extend out. She flexed her shoulders, the wings spreading and unfolding, almost in a billow. Hm, maybe that was the way to go for flying, she mused and tried to shift her shoulders again to see if it would make her wings move.
She caught Neville's expression and her gaze narrowed at his abysmal attempt to suppress a grin. "What?" she asked impatiently, hands on her hips.
Neville allowed himself a chuckle. "You look like you're doing the chicken dance," he admitted, motioning at her shoulders and elbows.
Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens. Morgana give her some strength. "You try to move these then," she bit back, appeased when he raised his hands as a sign of peace and motioned for her to try again.
This time she put her hands firmly into the pockets of her jeans and tried to keep as still as she could, flexing her back muscled gently to figure out which ones would move the wings best. She repeated this a few times until she realised that she was hovering about a foot off the ground. "Well, I guess I can…hover?" she mused and tried to go a bit higher, rising another three or four feet before remembering why she didn't like flying in the first place - heights. She tried to come down gracefully but instead froze in uncertainty and fell down, barely managing to roll into the fall to land on her haunches.
"Well that's certainly a box to tick, and you went up about five feet at least," Neville wrote this down, with a short description of the movement and wing span. "What about your senses? Now that you used your wings, are they more attuned?" he asked.
Hermione's logical mind appreciated his curiosity and she allowed herself to close her eyes and just feel. When she next opened them, they were black as night and endless in their depths but she felt…more. She was so much more than her usual human self. A movement caught her attention and her head turned sharply to the left, seeing and sensing the strong heartbeat. "A deer…young buck, just through the trees….two rabbits, the hare is carrying….." she took a deep breath and her head turned to Neville.
He stilled immediately at the gesture, realising too late that he was quite close for a predator to sense. She observed him and sniffed the air a bit before chuckling. "I can smell Kyra all over you…..sage and lemon myrtle…and you smell like the forest soil, fresh after a rain…" she offered, closing her eyes to try and get back to herself.
Neville took a gamble and asked her a question he didn't know if she would answer. "What does Pansy smell like?" he asked softly, remaining still in his seat as her intense dark eyes snapped open. There was the fury, lighting up the endless darkness of her gaze. He tried not to show his apprehension, keeping still and his expression blank.
She could sense his fear however and tried to curb in the reaction her body experienced at the mention of the brunette. Several deep breaths later, she blinked until her gaze returned to its regular whiskey brown and she came over to sit beside him, reaching for the bottle of water.
Neville let her catch a breath, not really expecting an answer as her reaction to Pansy was so strong. They first saw it at the dinner party and now his suspicions were confirmed. If this is how she reacted, then it was likely that the creature felt some sort of connection to the Slytherin. Perhaps they were even mates, if harpies had them. There was so little known on them that he wasn't sure whether it would be wise to mention that just yet.
"Lilac," she spoke softly, looking out over the meadow as she wasn't sure she could face his knowing gaze just yet. "She smells like lilac and something I can't quite place," she admitted.
It wasn't that she couldn't place it, but how can one explain to a human the scent of fire and desire? It was heated and musky, a most heady combination with the flowery lilac. Though she smelled it only for a very brief moment during that fateful dinner party, she couldn't forget it if she tried.
Neville packed up the rest of their snacks. "I think your harpy nature is well attuned to your human self. I inherited some books from Gran, though I haven't been able to go through all of them yet. She had an impressive creature section. Would you like me to look for more information? I might find something to share, or learn of any herbs that would be beneficial," he offered.
She finally looked at him and saw no judgement, only his earnest friendly face. "Thank you, that would be great," she nodded. "What else do you need to collect today?" she asked, getting up to her feet as they picked up their baskets and headed back for the tree line.
"The last item on my list is a wildflower bouquet for Kyra. Want to help?" he grinned.
She chuckled. "You are such a soppy sod, honestly," she teased but who was she to deny the couple the little joys?
"Oh gods, Kyra! Are you alright?" she saw her friend's expression tense as she leaned away from the potion. She reached up to feel her clammy forehead and was about to suggest getting her a tincture when the blonde bolted for the nearby bin and vomited violently.
The two assistants already at their benches balked at the sudden movement. "That's contamination!" one of them warned but Hermione pointed them at the door.
"Stabilise your potions and leave," she said firmly, her tone not one to argue with as the two young witches cast a few charms to keep their potions stable and hurried out to leave them alone.
She knelt down beside Kyra and gently pulled her hair away, casting a spell to clean up the couple of wispy strands that managed to fall into her trajectory. She tied it back with a spare hair tie from her wrist and gently rubbed her back, frowning when she felt the slightly more pronounced spine than she was used to. "What's wrong?" she asked while summoning a glass of water for the blonde.
Kyra tried to answer but gagged around her words, heaving for a long moment until there was nothing left to come up. "Breakfast didn't sit with me is all," she tried to reassure her friend.
Hermione raised an incredulous brow. "What do you take me for? You've lost some weight and this is the second time I've seen you being sick in the past week. I can tell something isn't right," she said firmly, taking the bin from her and vanishing the sick to get rid of the atrocious smell. She pulled Kyra close and helped her drink some water, casting gentle cooling charms on her forehead to soothe her.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to say anything just yet," Kyra sighed tiredly and allowed herself to lean back against her friend.
"I'll get you a nausea potion," Hermione offered, trying to get her more comfortable.
"No," Kyra's response was immediate and vehement. "It counter-reacts with my prescription. I can't have valerian root at the moment," she explained, knowing it would take Hermione's brilliant brain mere seconds to understand.
Hermione paused, processing the information. Sudden weight loss, violent vomiting, exhaustion, avoiding valerian and regular nausea potions, prescription….. "Hyperemesis gravidarum…" she whispered in awe.
Kyra chuckled. "Yup, I would be so lucky," she sighed tiredly. As far as she heard, morning sickness was annoying. This however, this was an entirely different level of unfortunate.
"How far along are you?" Hermione asked gently, helping her drink some more water.
"Four weeks. The healer says the symptoms should hopefully go away in a couple of weeks. I didn't want to say anything before the second trimester, as I didn't know if the baby would take," she admitted, not wanting to raise Neville's hopes. They've been together for over a decade and have been trying for many years without success. The possibility that she was pregnant now was most magical to her.
Hermione was stunned but ecstatic for her friends. "Congratulations, you both deserve this happiness," she gently squeezed the blonde's petite frame before helping her stand up. "But I have to say - deciding to expose yourself to potentially harmful chemicals and magical ingredients in an experimental potions lab? What were you thinking?"
Kyra looked a bit guilty, her gaze dropping to their bench. "But we're so close, I can feel it! If only we could crack this formula-"
"And we will," she interrupted the blonde and led her out of the lab. "But you'll be doing so from home, helping us obtain the ingredients. I will be doing the brewing," she said pointedly.
"I'm not an invalid," Kyra very near stomped her foot stubbornly but the sudden movement clearly unsettled her as she swayed on her feet.
Hermione held her up patiently. "I can see that," she observed drily. "Come on, you're going home, you need to lie down," she guided her towards the main floo and whisked them away to Scotland.
Neville turned pale as a sheet when he saw the state of his other half, curled up in bed and grimacing as Hermione gently inserted a needle into the faint vein above her ring finger a couple of hours later.
"I don't know how muggles can bear this," Kyra frowned as Hermione moved around and clicked a few plastic pieces in until she was connected to the thin tube and bag of clear liquid. "What is it called again?" she asked.
"Saline, sodium chloride and water. I checked with my squib friend who works at a hospital in Edinburgh and he suggested getting you some of this. It doesn't react with the potions they prescribe at Mungo's for your condition, and it will help keep you hydrated while you sleep without forcing down water," she promised. "I cleared it with Poppy, she'll check in on you soon. I hope it helps."
"Thank you, Hermione. I always knew you would be a great friend," Kyra reached for her other hand and squeezed it gently.
Hermione offered her a fond smile. "Anytime. Now, I'll leave you two to talk. Call me if you need anything," she patted Neville's shoulder and made a hasty retreat, wanting to leave the couple alone so they could talk in peace.
Only once she settled Byron after a quick run around the nearby park did she realise that with Kyra out of commission and banned from the lab for her own safety, she was effectively the head potions mistress in the company. And so she would have to attend the conference in Geneva next week in Kyra's place.
With Pansy.
Fuck.