Chapter 23
The next day was just as challenging as the former.
Hermione didn't know why, but she had expected Voldemort to be there when she woke. She expected an apology, or an explanation. Instead, she received an ominous note.
'Miss Granger,
We will continue where we left off last night when you return from Hogwarts. I would recommend an empty stomach.'
He didn't sign it, but he didn't need to. She kept looking at it all over breakfast, but she could see the meaning being either sinister or reconciliatory. Either he was going to horrify her enough to worry about her losing her meal, or he was intending to have a dinner with her to continue their late-night conversation in earnest.
Mammsy knew nothing. She simply came in with food and then got her ready, not giving her any ideas as to her master's plans for the night. So, the moment Mammsy had finished wrapping her in her robes and fastening her hair in an intricate braided bun, she apparated to one person who might – Snape.
Unfortunately, she wasn't paying attention when she honed in on his familiar hint of magic, and she ended up apparating directly into his bedroom.
"MISS GRANGER!" Snape shouted. Hermione shut her eyes instinctively.
"I'm sorry!" Hermione shrieked. "I'm sorry, I didn't check, I'm sorry!"
"OUT!"
Hermione ran out of the door which led to the delinquent chambers, bumping into Malfoy. He was looking at her with wide eyes.
"Is he alright?" Malfoy asked. "It sounded like he was dying in there."
"Oh God," Hermione moaned, burying her face in her hands. "He's going to kill me. He's going to hex me blind, just for the cruel irony. Malfoy, are there spells to clean out your brain with soap?"
It took Malfoy a moment to deduce what happened, and like a pin dropping, he started cracking up.
"It's not funny!" Hermione shrieked. "I just saw your godfather naked!"
Draco couldn't speak for laughing. Hermione was standing there with a most-likely bright red face, and Malfoy was leaning against a wall with pure delight on his face as he laughed so hard it became hard to breath. In that state, to everyone's horror, Severus Snape stepped into the passageway.
Hermione was terrified at the glint in his eyes and ran to hide behind Malfoy, who finally stopped laughing when his self-preservation kicked in. He tried to jump out of the way, but Hermione moved with him, earning an indignant cry.
"Granger! I'm not getting hexed because you saw his bollocks!" Draco yelped.
"Silence!" Snape roared.
Hermione's heart was beating in her chest as Snape glared with his coal-black eyes.
"Well, Miss Granger?" Snape growled. "Do you have a reason for appearing in my chambers early in the morning, or shall we get on with assigning detention?"
"I'm sorry!" Hermione squeaked. "I just wanted your opinion on something!"
"On what, Miss Granger?" he sneered. "Quickly, please."
Hermione extended the hand with the crumpled note form Voldemort, offering it to him. He read it over and frowned into it. He reread it several times, given how much time had passed.
"Draco, I suggest you finish getting dressed for breakfast," he finally announced. "Miss Granger and I have business to attend to."
"Come on," Malfoy complained, before he caught the look on his godfather's face. "OK, OK, I'm leaving."
Severus corralled Hermione from her place along the wall and led her to the hallway and across to his office. A complicated set of privacy charms later and Hermione was sat across from him, the crumpled note between them.
"Explain."
Hermione did. She explained the previous night, from him calling her his wife to their argument. His face grew grave at her description of the end of the night, and became contemplative when she finished.
"Miss Granger, I'm surprised no one died because you," Snape told her frankly, "but this is not going to be good. I have no idea why the Dark Lord would be trying to win your favour, but I would not hesitate to use it to win his mercy tonight. Do what you must tonight, with no hesitation, if you want to prevent unnecessary death."
"There's no chance he'll just want to continue the conversation?" Hermione pleaded.
"No." He crumpled the parchment up and burnt it to ash on the desk. "And your rosy perspective where he's concerned does your intelligent little credit."
Hermione nodded. Telling Professor Snape everything was therapeutic, moreso because he had never judged her for finding some good qualities in the resident Dark Lord. But his criticism cut harshly just for that reason. She couldn't bear to share the most innerost workings of her mind out loud, because if he had chosen not to mention it in his purview with Legilimency, to open up the subjects again where he couldn't ignore it would mean his disaproval would be voiced.
He rose from his desk and motioned for her to do the same. "You will stay away as long as you can tonight, Miss Granger, and we will use that time to train your Occlumency barriers. Simply a precaution, but we have no idea what the Dark Lord expects of you, or what he plans to do to unravel you. Immediately following dinner, Miss Granger, I'll collect you from your room. Right now, however, we must go join the school."
He opened the door for her, his face suddenly a shade darker. "I hope I need not remind you that if you breathe a word of this morning to anyone, you will wish you were never born."
She gulped. "Yes, sir."
She and Snape separated as soon as they hit the hallway, both aware that a friendship between the two of them was not something that they wanted publicized. Hermione didn't mind; the Slytherin table welcomed her surprisingly well, and he'd given her enough to think about when he'd confirmed her worst fears.
She was happily distracted from what would be a depressing day of simply waiting for the heat of her collar by classes. History of Magic, where she handed in the essay she'd done what seemed like an eon ago, and Care of Magical Creatures , where they had a practical lessons on glumbumbles, both presented wonderful distractions to the anticipation. Unfortunately, Hagrid seemed convinced that she'd be depressed, because when describing the induced melancholy produced by consuming the treacle they secreted he was looking at her specifically. She shuffled uncomfortably at that, and used an opportunity to spew facts as a way to soothe the gentle half-giant.
The all-Slytherin defense class, however, went just as badly as she could have expected. After depositing their essays on Dark spells and their categorizations, Snape swirled to the front of the room and onto the dueling platform that had existed in the class for the entire year up to this point.
"Thusfar, you have been talk the necessary defensive spells to hopefully survive a fight with a dark wizard," Snape drawled. "However, you do not want to survive a fight, you want to win. When your combatant displays their comfort in ending your own life, and not in just any duel, you must not hesitate to use dangerous and even lethal spells. If you are outnumbered, for example, what would happen if you simply stunned an opponent?"
A Slytherin girl raised her hand. "One of the others could revive them."
"5 points," Snape said as his sole agreement. "For this reason, if you are outnumbered you fightyou're your life and they sacrifice theirs. Spells that will maim, seriously injure, or kill your opponent that are not considered dark will aid you greatly in battle, particularly if you can cast them wordlessly. The first I will teach you today is the severing curse. Go to your practice dummies, and if I see one wand pointed at a fellow student after I made myself clear that this is a dangerous spell, so help me your children will have detention with Filch until they graduate."
They all approached their dummies, and Hermione hoped he wouldn't call her out for not taking her wand out. It was there, in her pocket, but she had promised a certain Dark Lord not to use it for learning spells if he was going to allow her her schooling. It needed to remain pocketed.
"The wand movement is simple enough," Professor Snape told the, drawing their eyes from their supposed enemies. "A simple slashing motion across whatever limb you wish to remove from your foe, as the incantation, praetrunco, reaches the final syllable. Face your dummies and practice the motion and timing."
Hermione turned to her dummy, but only had her hand. She nonverbally cast the severing curse, breaking off the dummy's wand arm. Before she could move to the other limbs, Snape had moved in and grabbed her hand. The class froze.
"What do you think you're doing, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape demanded. "This is a wand-based exercise. Where is yours?"
"In my pocket," Hermione grimaced.
"Then use it to cast," Snape ordered firmly.
Hermione bit her lip. "I can't."
Snape's brow rose as the class murmured around them. "I'm sure you could find the strength to lift a simple stick, Miss Granger. Let's be honest, shall we? Are you refusing to take out your wand for the exercise?"
"Yes."
"Regardless of the consequences?" He saw the look in her face and instinctively knew the person who'd prevented her from doing so. She nodded. "You can sit out this lesson until you feel prepared to obey my instruction. If, by the end of class, you still feel incapable of doing so, I will see you at five for detention."
"Yes, sir."
Not much of a punishment, but she was in a class of Slytherins. Malfoy looked confusedly at her, but the others looked genuinely concerned, like she'd lost her wand with Voldemort. She sat down at her desk and took out her textbook, not looking to force him into punishing her. The class went by slowly enough, letting her leave with the other Slytherins and with a covertly reassuring smile at Professor Snape.
"What were you doing, Granger?" Malfoy whispered to her when they'd exited to the hallway.
"I'm forbidden from using my wand in lessons," she informed him. "It was one of the things he told me he needed if I was going to come back."
"The Dark Lord ordered you to not use your wand?" Draco said incredulously. "Seriously?"
She nodded glumly. "He wants me to use wandless magic proficiently, and he told me to accept any punishments that come from refusing the professors."
"That must be killing your inner swot," Draco smirked at her.
She feigned a dramatic heart attack. "Oh, my poor heart. However will I survive?"
The other teachers were impressed with her wandless magic and didn't force her to use her wand like Snape had, so the rest of the day went fine. Fine, that is, until in the last class of the day where the extremely simple base of the Polyjuice potion that she had brewed alone, in a girl's bathroom in her Second Year, kept coming out wrong! It was a Double Potions class, and she should have been able to finish the base within the first third of it.
She had called Professor Slughorn over, telling him she had brewed it before and had never had this issue. He had simply looked at the base and frowned. "Well, my dear, I suppose you'll just need to start again. It's alright you know, it takes a month to brew, after all. I'm sure you'll manage to create one."
He left her alone with the distinct impression that he was disappointed, which frustrated her to no end. so she tried again, measuring everything out perfectly and timing to the millisecond the stirs. She tried to recreate the base TWICE with her full and complete attention, sure she'd done better than in second year, and she had still failed. Slughorn was entirely unhelpful, and when she asked Draco he went over all her steps and told her he couldn't tell what was wrong. Frustrated, Hermione left the second the bell sounded to find Professor Snape. Slughorn was an idiot, and she needed a Potions Master.
She found him fixing his desks and the target dummies against the walls in his Defense class.
"To what do I owe the privilege of your company more than an hour before detention, Miss Granger?" Severus smirked at her. "Not an apology for class, surely?"
"Hardly," Hermione scoffed. Immediately, she rescinded. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
"I doubt that highly, as your display in class spoke volumes," he chuckled. He motioned her to join him at his desk, and she approached happily. "Tell me, was it the Dark Lord who ordered your insubordination?"
She nodded. "He told me, in no uncertain terms, to accept detention rather than use a wand in class. I thought it was cutting close today."
Severus shook his head humorously. "I suppose it's forgivable. I had planned on finding a reason to keep you later this evening at any rate, just in case the Dark Lord wanted to know where you'd been. You provided an excellent opportunity."
Hermione grinned sheepishly. "That's fair."
"Now, what is the issue?"
"Please tell me I'm not losing it," Hermione pleaded, pulling out her sheet of paper. "I followed these instructions explicitly for polyjuice, and it's not exactly a recipe I'm unfamiliar with. But the base keeps coming out as just a liquid, with no pin-straight white smoke streams and unable to dissolve the boomslang skin! All Professor Slughorn told me was to try again. I tried three times in class today, but it kept coming out the exact same! That man couldn't tell me anything!"
Snape glanced at the parchment fleetingly before placing it on his desk with a nod. "Tell me, does your wand feel … compliant?"
Hermione grimaced. "No, sir." And she certainly wasn't proud of it.
"Not since the bonding, or even the ritual, correct?" Severus guessed. Again, she nodded. "This is a surprisingly common problem to fix, Miss Granger, but it does necessitate a new wand.
"The simple way to explain it is that each potion where you use wands to stir is a form of unconscious magic," Snape said in full lecture-mode. "As potions is a delicate art, it is nearly impossible for the unconscious magic to be pulled from you if your wand is not compatible. I believe you are aware that Messers Weasley and Longbottom both had inherited wands and both performed poorly in my class, correct?"
"It was because of their wands?" Hermione gasped. "Then, why did you never …?"
"State in no uncertain terms that they would fail if they continued to use their second-hand wands for my class?" he finished. "I did, many times, but no Gryffindor heeds my advice. They assumed I was diverting blame for my teaching onto them or trying to rile them up about their parentage instead of taking my words as the law they are."
He rifled through his desk for a moment and grabbed a small sack of Galleons. "I will advise the Headmaster that we will be leaving the school. I presume you can apparate us to my home at Spinner's End? From there, I can take us to a French wandmaker's shop known as L'Autre Main. Not Ollivanders, obviously, but should the wands they carry not speak to you, they do custom work that may very well be more appropriate for your unique situation."
"You don't need to, sir" Hermione quickly asserted. "I'm sure if I told the Dark Lord, he'll insist on it. He insisted I would receive anything I wanted last night."
Before a horrible conversation about politics that would have left even the best optimist angry and depressed, but Snape didn't need to know that. Hermione only hoped the discomfort at her own suggestion didn't show.
"I will inform him of our trip myself, stipulating what an honour it was to serve his objectives, then," Severus sneeringly told her. "In the meantime, I'd rather not have him attempt to kidnap another wandmaker, wouldn't you? If you're taken care of, he will hopefully let it be and the populace will be all the safer."
When it looked like she was still going to protest, he gave her a look. "Hermione, I told you I'd look after you, and I intend to keep my word. Now, can you apparate us directly to my home?"
She hesitated, but threw her magic out in search of one that matched his own magical signature. She found the building far from any of the others, seemingly in the middle of nowhere with no other magical signatures nearby.
She withdrew, and nodded. "I found it."
"Good." Withdrawing his own wand, Severus conjured a raven patronus and relayed the message. "Shall we?"
Despite her friendship with him, it seemed strange to be close to him enough to side-along. Still, he extended his arm and she took it. After a few deep breaths to ensure she didn't splinch her Professor, she threw them through the wards around the school and of to Spinner's End.
Hermione had wanted to look around the Snape home, but the second she landed on the property the pull of side-along informed her that Severus wasn't wasting any time pulling her off across the Chanel. She let herself be pulled through the tiny point in space, and the tunnel deposited both her and her professor on a cobbled drive. Wizards and witches passed them by with a cursory look at her uniform, but said nothing.
"Follow me."
She kept at the heels of the billowing robes, moving with him down the cobbled path. It was clear to everyone around them that they were English, so some sneers were directed at her and hers. They kept moving.
Severus finally led the to a wonderfully antique-looking shop that felt more like an old German home rather than a store, with its exposed wooden beams and plaster exterior. Just a simply post out front with a picture of a wand, and underneath in freshly painted green the name L'Autre Main, depuis 514 BC. It looked very homey, if less mystical than Ollivanders had appeared to her eleven-year-old self.
Severus led her through the front door. Compared to Ollivander's, this room was sparsely populated with wands. Ollivanders had shelves and shelves and shelves with wands, but this room was nicely decorated in pictures of creatures and trees, with only three sets of shelves with the blue-boxed wands. One right behind the counter, and two on the walls before two hallways. The ring of the bell overhead was clearly to call the wandmaker, who took a moment before appearing in the hallways to the right, wiping her hands on a cloth and greeting them both with a cheerful smile.
"Bonjour monsieur, mademoiselle," the woman greeted. "Bienvenue. Tu peux m'appeler Mme. DuBois, et je suis à votre service. Puis-je t'aider aujourd'hui?"
"Pardon, Madame, mais parlez-vous Anglais?" Herimione asked.
"Ah, British?" The woman guessed, putting her rag down on the counter. "But of course, I speak English, even if it vas learned from Americans. Can't get some of ze rarer wand cores from zose silly people without ze language. Now, vat vas it you need, sweet?"
Hermione pulled out her wand and placed it on the woman's desk with a sad look. "I seem to have outgrown my wand. It's not working for me anymore."
"Terrible, dear," Mme. Dubois picked up the wand carefully, assessing the quality and make. "Any chance it iz unicorn hair? Zose do die sometimes, and it vould be a simple matter to replace."
"Dragon heartstring," Hermione informed her. "The wood is vine."
"Hmmm, and it really doesn't answer to you anymore," the woman was lifting the wand carefully, turning it one way and another, as if she could see the bond "Yes, vine vas never fickle, but it tends tovards zose whose magic is linked vith nature and life, zose who vould preserve it but also zose vith hidden strengths. I vould guess zat your strength is no longer hidden, hmm?"
She placed the wood down on the desk and went over to one of the shelves. "We're not like Ollivanders here, vith all his sure-fire recipe wands. He only uses ze three cores, you know? Phoenix feazzer, unicorn hair, and dragon heartstring. Zey make good wands, excellent wands, to be sure, but zey are safe, so don't be surprised if your pair is cored vith a kneazle whisker or a fairy wing."
She pulled a box from the shelf and pulled from it a beautiful red wand, holding it out to her.
"Bloodwood and phoenix feazzer," the lady announced. "Powerful combination, but a little fiery. It has the ability for the earth magic zat your old wand had, but zis one tends to be more balanced between ze elements."
Hermione took it into her hand carefully, then pointed it at the rag the proprietor had left on the table. "Wingardium Leviosa."
The rag promptly shot up in the air and, upon falling back to the desk, began to smoke. Mme. DuBois took the wand immediately and boxed it.
"A bit too fiery, I think," the woman announced. "Not quite your balance, hmm?" She sorted through the shelves a little. "Vhat does your magic lean towards? Do you have a favourite subject?"
Hermione bit her lip. Normally, she would have said charms. But remembering the ritual circles … "Healing, Madame. It tends to power and healing."
"Zat's a better answer zan I normally get," the woman told her, a grin on her face. "You have a knowledgeable mind zen, with some honest introspection, a good quality. Power and healing as well, one indistinguishing of ze friend or ze foe, and ze other impartial but kind, but both can be served by passion. Hmm… an aspen wand next, I zink."
She pulled one out from the stacks, revealing a beautifully polished wand. "Aspen and unicorn hair, thirteen inches."
It looked fine, but when Hermione reached out for it, her magic recoiled from it as if it was the opposite of what it wanted.
"That's not for me," Hermione told the woman, whose eyebrows shot up. "My magic doesn't like it."
Hermione really didn't want to get into her new magic with the woman, but she clearly didn't need to. Mme. DuBois was sizing her up and she saw a flash of excitement in the shopkeep's eyes as she regarded her. As if she knew.
"Fascinating," the woman looked Hermione up and down. "Hmm . . . Let's try anozzer with a similar core to your old vand, et peut-être …"
She turned to the bookshelf on Hermione's right, poking at various packages. "You mentioned healing, but is zere any gift for divination?"
Hermione snorted loudly at that. "Not in this life, Madame. I quit after a few weeks of class."
That elicited a chuckle from the owner, but seemed to help with the search. Within a few moments, she'd pulled another box. "I vould like you to try a laurel wand, if you vouldn't mind."
"Why would I mind?"
She seemed hesitant. Professor Snape rumbled from the back of the shop, "Laurel woods are highly sought after by politicians and the like because of some ridiculous notion that a laurel wand – and therefore its owner – cannot perform a dishonourable act. Some view the rejection from such a wand as a judgement on their character. If you are sensitive to the opinions of a piece of wood, you might be devastated."
"Is that all?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, then."
She picked up the laurel wand and pointed it at the rag. "Flipendo." The wand refused to cooperate, and the rag moved a little and then stilled, as if it was only a breeze. She returned the wand.
"Zat was a kinder reaction zan most get with laurel," the wandmaker attempted to praise her. "And it shows a better balance, but not quite ze right combination. Hmmm . . . Let's see . . . similar balance to ze laurel and dragon, but perhaps vith more of an overt oomph? Something vith more character, I think."
She leaned over the stacks, examining the options. "Vat is it you vant to do vith your life, ma petite?"
Each question seemed to narrow down the wand, so Hermione wished desperately she had an answer, but the collar on her neck mocked her and the question she was posed. She teetered uncomfortably between answering honestly or just lying her way around it.
"No lies," Mme. Dubois called over her shoulder, as if reading her mind. "I don't care if you vant to end up begging on a street corner, but it helps to know vat kind of person the vand vill attach itself to."
Hermione relented. "I don't see me lasting to the end of this conflict, Madame. And even if I do, I may not have the freedom to choose what I do want. I'm sorry I don't have a better answer."
The lighthearted shopkeeper froze briefly in her pursuit before turning to observe her customer. She had seen the war with Grindelwald and heard of the troubles with Britain over the past thirty years. Yet, for one so young to seem so certain she would die . . . A revelation occurred. This girl was the front lines; whether for real or in her own mind, it made no difference. This changed the wand woods she was looking at. She was looking for a warrior's wand.
Changing gears, Mme. Dubois pulled an older box, a wand she'd made all those years ago for Grindelwald's war.
"Zis might be closer, zen, to vat you'll need," she told Hermione. "Ironwood and phoenix feazzer. One of ze strongest voods and ze most passionate of cores."
Again, it failed to interact properly, but at least with this wand Hermione could hold the rag in the air for more than a moment.
The woman took a moment searching for another wand before coming back with a gorgeous looking brown wand, rich and understated, nestled in its satin-lined box.
"Kingwood and dragon heartstring, an unyielding and stubborn little thing, but loyal," Mme. DuBois described fondly. "I do like carving ze kingwood. It al-vays makes any journey feel like a privilege, as if it is gracing you vith a view of vat you could be at ze end of it all. Much like ze laurel, but less innocent and more wizened, I find."
Hermione reached for it, feeling her magic move over the wand. The magic of the item felt good … but it was off. Like the magic was a wave washing over her, encompassing her, and then, all of sudden, she got a fish to the face. She waved it at the rag and felt the issue immediately – the core. Her magic went to course through it, but ended up erratic and changed.
"The kingwood feels good, but the dragon heartstring messes with my magic," Hermione told the woman, handing it back. "Do you have any other kingwood wands?"
"Not at the moment," she told her. "But ve can custom it. Let me fetch ze cores I have on hand, un moment."
The stately woman moved from the room in an unhurried yet strong gait. Within a few seconds, she'd returned with a large metal box, dropping it onto the counter with a bang.
"Zese are my strange cores," the woman told Hermione as she opened the various locks on the box. "Zere are ze three most common and most popular, but I tend to zink zat ze core zat chooses you will be right no matter vat, even if it comes from a lowly kelpie or a high and mighty nundu. Sorry for being presumptuous, but you don't seem ze phoenix feather or unicorn hair type, so I thought we'd begin ze search with zese beauties."
She lifted the lid, showing a strange collection of feathers, claws, vegetation . . . it seemed like there were pieces of everything in there.
"Not all of zese species are native to Europe," the witch explained, pulling out the top part and dividing it so Hermione could see even more cores underneath. "Zere are quite a few here from Asia and North America, as vell as a few from Africa. If you're looking to find ze perfect match, it might very vell be here."
Hermione was hardly paying attention. Her magic was reaching over the cores, stroking at their magic before searching the next for the match. Two pieces seemed to call more than most, and Hermione was quick to cut of the elder witch.
"Is it normal for two cores to agree with my magic at once?" Hermione asked her.
"Oh, you're already feeling ze bond?" Mme. Dubois' eyes lit up. "Show me vich."
Hermione pointed to the lone brown hair, and then one of the three black claws crowding the upper shelving of her box.
"What are they?"
Mme. Dubois carefully handled both cores, placing them apart from the others. Their mingling magics were more potent, and Hermione found she liked them.
"Zis hair vas one of around thirty I was given by a centaur herd," Mme. DuBois told her fondly. "Zey know ze forests and trees qvite vell, and so zey know about the magic of the woods. Zey helped me beaucoup vhen I was feeling too confined in my vandmaking. Zey're veaker cores, as ze centaur has only ze most mild of magic, so zey nearly always paired with another. Centaurs are exceptionally good at healing, I see why it chose you.
"Let's see, ze length, ze brown colour . . ." Mme. DuBois sized up the hair, as if trying to remember something. Then, a spark of recognition. "Zis core was probably from Lena, mate to the herd leader. Didn't see much of her during my time with zem, but zen again, she vas in ze foaling camp. I vas surprised when she offered a hair."
"I can't believe I never knew you could use their tail-hairs for wands." Hermione was awestruck. "What's the other core? Is it just as strange?"
"Ah," Mme. Dubois lifted the claw between two fingers, presenting it artistically for Hermione. "Manticore claw. A rare core, but also a rare item anyways. Zere are not many manticores around, and it's not like zey shed claws like ze thunderbird does feazzers. Zis one I got from a creature who died in Crete. A manticore is fierce, and vands vith zeir claws are used for powerful curses but also ze most amazing charms."
Mme. Dubois looked at the claw, and then at her. "You know, ze manticore iz part lion, ma petite. Zere are many who vould say wands vith zis core bring out bravery in people. Perhaps zis can be a comfort for you in ze war."
The sincerity of her comment had Hermione a little choked up. The idea that despite everything she was still part lion was more comfort than the woman would have guessed in her current Slytherin robes. She cleared her throat, trying to keep the tightness from making her voice creaky.
"I highly doubt Miss Granger needs to be more lionhearted than she currently is," Snape cut emphatically from the sidelines.
Hermione shot him a look before turning to the comforting lady. "Thank you. I can't imagine two cores that would be more perfect."
"Yes, zey do interact vell for you, don't zey?" Mme. DuBois looked at the cores fondly. "Centaur tail hair appeals to the healing magic in you, but both ze cores indicate a certain intelligence and passion, as vell as a fighting nature. Avec Kingwood … yes, it should be balanced. Manticore claw is certainly powerful enough, je pense, to suit ze wood. It vill be fit for a varrior-queen. Let me just fetch some I have on hand to be sure …"
The kindly matron went through to the back, leaving Hermione alone again with Severus.
"I wish there were books on this sort of thing," Hermione told him seriously. That earned a derisive snort. "What? Nobody who crafts magical items talks about it. Not wands, or tents, not cursed items, not goblin-made anythings … Imagine reading about the process that went into making the Sword of Godric Gryffindor! Or time-turners! Imagine if you could learn about someone just by knowing their wand wood and core?"
Severus gave her a quirked brow, his eyes gleaming in amusement. She was glad she could see more into the infamous potion master's façade now, or she would have taken it for an indication to shut up her babbling. Instead, she goaded him. "What do you think, Professor?"
"As always, you rely on books when you should ask those who have the applied knowledge," he drawled. "In intricate arts like crafting magic, the plethora of variables precludes them from being learnt through a text. It is something you learn by feeling what is correct, as opposed to knowing."
"Well, zat is true," the matron returned then with a few different cylinders of wood in her arms, depositing them on the desk. "It took years for me to feel ven a core vas happy with a wood, and to acquire the correct wood to be used anyvays. Papa once let me oversee ze purchase of some cedar zat turned out vas as magical as firewood."
The wandmaker touched each cylinder of wood and then brought it closer to Hermione's chosen cores. Finally, she selected the wood and offered it to Hermione, who took it in her hand. It felt nice, but like it could stand on its own where her other wand could not. She nodded, and handed it back.
"Yes, I thought so too," Mme. DuBois told her happily.
As she packaged everything up to move to her back room once again, Severus came behind her in silent financial and personal support. Hermione was grateful to the man, sending him a small smile that he returned with a bob of his head.
"Oh, and before vee settle it . . ." Mme. DuBois picked up her old vine wand from the desk and held it up. "I'm a-vare that wands can have, er – comment-dit-on? Ah, oui – sentimental value, however, if you'd be villing to part vith it for a few galleons zere may be anozzer vitch or vizard who may find it compatible."
"Oh, sure, I'll sell it," Hermione agreed awkwardly. "I hadn't even thought about it."
"Oh, zat's vonderful!" Mme. DuBois thanked the girl. "Don't fret, I vill inform ze future owner that it is an Ollivander wand – I certainly von't take credit for anozzer vizard's work – but I do so hate to see wands go to vaste in family cabinets or ze like."
With that all set, Mme. Dubois set away her things and the component from Hermione's new wand. "Normally ze custom wand is fifteen galleons. Ze manticore claw is a rare component, zo it vill be more expensive. But we can give you a price of five galleons for ze old wand-"
"Tell us the total, Madame," Snape snapped.
"Ze price for your vand vill be twenty-five galleons."
If Professor Snape was staggered by the amount, he didn't show it even as he took the amount from his little leather sac and placed them in the matron's hand. With her assurances to them that the wand would be ready by the same time tomorrow, Severus carted Hermione away and back to the apparition point.
"I'll pay you back," Hermione reassured him once they'd left the shop.
Severus rolled his eyes. "I assure you, that is unnecessary and inconvenient if you do. I am a paid Professor with no living expenses and no family to drain on my income. A meager twenty-five galleons for a necessity is not going to injure my vault."
"But…"
"Merlin, you're going to make me say it out loud, aren't you?" Severus accused. "Miss Granger, you are aware that I am an unlikeable spy with very few people who I care for and even fewer who I can trust?"
Hermione said nothing, merely wondered where this would end.
"Now, think of whether I would regularly go out of my way for a student, even one who was in my house," Severus prompted. "I assure you, I do not welcome opportunities to accompany anyone anywhere. What does that tell you of how I perceive you?"
Hermione thought on what she supposed to be their friendship, although she rarely allowed herself to think of it as one. She had always assumed he felt responsible for her, and as such allowed her more liberties than he had before. Now, he was saying . . . "I'm one of the people you care for? And trust?"
With a brief falter in his step, the dour Potions Master nodded, his expression pinched. "Just so."
"But my Occlumency-"
"I can trust someone without giving them all of my incriminating information, Miss Granger," Professor Snape nearly growled. "Do not insult my intelligence and assume my trust comes with a foolhardy and suicidal degree of optimism. No matter my regard, I will still deduct points once we return to the school."
That made Hermione laugh. "Only you could have an insulting yet academic discussion about feelings. You know, you could just come out and say what you mean. You like me."
"Gryffindor," was his response.
Hermione grinned. "I'm an honourary Slytherin now."
Severus Snape's eyes went wide in mock horror. "Heaven help us."
Well, that was a horrid chapter to write. The main point was to get Hermione's new wand, but that was the easy part. Next up, Voldemort is dastardly and also philosophical, Hermione is traumatized, and the return on Dolohov!
Also, I spent AGES going over which wand combination to pick for her. Did I want her to have yew and phoenix feather, a perfect antithesis for Voldemort? Did I want her to have dragon heartstring in the new wand? But with the magic I've built in to this little universe, I felt that dragon really didn't match Hermione's new old magical capabilities with healing. However, just to assuage your curiousity, here's a list of the top contenders!
1. Yew and Phoenix Feather
2. English Oak and Pheonix Feather
3. Ironwood and Thunderbird Feather
4. White Cedar/Aspen/Hawthorne (a tri-wood wand) with the heartstring of a Chinese Fireball
5. Cherry and Sphinx Whisker (this one wouldn't have worked for Hermione, as she's too emotional and the sphinx whisker would become unruly, but I found the combination intriguing)
In the end, I think I found what I wanted in her wand without veering off cannon. Still, do you guys like the choice? What do you think is the meaning behind her wand? And, most importantly, did anyone catch the little spoiler?
