Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Rex tremendae majestatis,
qui salvandos savas gratis,
salve me, fons pietatis.
Chapter Eighteen
Hermione read Severus's response when she returned to work the next morning. Molly had owled her just after noon, letting her know that Rosie was ill, having thrown up her lunch. Hermione had left work to attend to her daughter, only to discover that Rose was not actually sick. She had eaten a large pile of sweets that George had brought her and a Puking Pastille had accidentally made its way into the mix. Once Hermione was there to recognize the tell-tale signs that her vomiting had been induced by said sweet rather than an illness, she quickly gave her the other half of the chew and took her home for a rehydrating potion and a nap.
Hugo had responded to being ripped from his grandmother's arms by throwing a tantrum. He cried for almost two hours as Hermione attempted to simultaneously care for Rosie and placate Hugo. By the end of the two hours, after she had offered him every possible comfort and verified he wasn't ill, he had finally exhausted himself and went down for an unscheduled nap. She knew it would wreak havoc on their carefully scheduled sleeping schedule, but she simply couldn't listen to him cry any longer. As a result of his normal schedule being interrupted, the next morning had started rather early and Hermione found herself dropping them off with Molly an hour early simply to escape. Being a single parent was not for the faint of heart.
What wasn't fair was that Molly simply had to flick her wand over him with a non-verbal spell to reveal that while he was not actually ill, Hugo was gassy and over tired still. Thus, Molly was able to rectify the issue immediately with a potion to relieve the gas and an early start to his morning nap.
"You ought to publish a book with all these spells and potions you have for rearing children and keeping house," Hermione said to her mother-in-law. "I've learned far more from you than from any other book or course."
"Oh pish posh," Molly said. "They are just simple variations of common spells and recipes that anyone with half a brain could come up with."
"Just because they could—and I'm certainly not saying many could—doesn't mean that they have, Molly," Hermione protested. "I know many people would love to hear your spells and potions. I feel quite sure I know a publisher or two who would be interested in having you write a book about them. Unless, of course, you would like to keep them secret."
Molly waved her off with a hand. "Of course they're not secret. I share them with anyone I think will benefit."
"Well," Hermione countered, "What if they could benefit you?"
Molly shook her head. "Who would ever read a book by the likes of me, Hermione dear? I am certainly no expert."
Hermione let the subject drop, drank the tea she was offered, and scurried off to work, going up the drive before apparating into St. Mungo's. She picked up a report from one of the other research teams she hadn't been able to procure the day before and then bought a bacon sandwich from the witch who pushed to food trolley throughout the hospital. It was only when she arrived at her desk that she finally received Severus's owl.
Her eagerness to read what was sure to be a sarcastic and biting reply was surprising to her. They had been communicating for three weeks in total and she had only known with exactly whom she communicated during the last two. As a student, many of his letters would have seemed mean spirited. Though offended, she would never have fought back. As an adult however, instead of truly insulting, his dry sarcasm seemed humorous and she would dare say she gave as good as she got. The banter was just as enjoyable as the research itself. She found herself increasingly glad that he had agreed to assist in the research from a personal perspective rather than as a researcher trying to compile the best team.
Dear Healer Weasley,
If you are seeking felicitations for discovering that Flobberworms can be used in lieu of Flesh-Eating Slug mucus, I am afraid you have queried the wrong source. As with your days as a student, you are once again mistaking sheer luck to be skill on your own part. When you are done congratulating yourself, we will return to the real work of your little potion project: the enchanted Belladonna extract.
I'm sure this discovery will distract you for at least the rest of the day, if not tomorrow as well. Should I anticipate some information from you and your compatriot Mr. Longbottom tomorrow or perhaps the day after?
Sincerely,
Jack Hier
She smiled wryly. No, she had not expected any type of congratulations from him regarding her recent discovery. She also wondered if he realized how true it was that she had made the discovery out of luck. To ask him, of course, would mean confessing, so she would never do that. She would not have been chosen for Gryffindor if she did not have a certain level of personal pride.
Putting the letter to the side temporarily, she rifled through the rest of the correspondence she had missed the previous afternoon. The first letter was from Neville with even more research notes on possible plants to substitute for the Enchanted Belladonna. All of his research pointed toward the humble yarrow plant, the ingredient Severus had sneered at the very suggestion of. Though she smiled at the thought of Severus being proven wrong once again, she pushed the letter aside. The proof would be in the pudding.
The final letter in the stack was the most boring and the one she looked forward to the least: accounting. They needed her expense reports. As they were in the theoretical stage, the only things she had to account for were payroll accounts and Neville's consulting fees. It was a necessary evil working in a large organization such as St. Mungo's.
By the time Hermione had finished filling out the necessary paperwork, Terry made his way into the office.
"Good morning Hermione," he greeted her. "How is Rosie this morning? Still sick?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. Accidental Puking Pastille from her uncle."
"Say no more. I'm not sure you could pay me enough to chew one of those now as an adult, though they were certainly useful for avoiding Umbridge," he replied.
"One of the only classes I took pleasure in skipping," she told him.
He nodded. "Well, I did have a productive afternoon after you left. I have some answers on those calculations you asked me to run."
Terry sifted through a stack of parchment on his desk for a minute before handing Hermione a thick sheaf covered in calculations. While she could ordinarily decipher the work, these were beyond the level of her modest Arithmancy training.
"You gave me quite the task, Hermione," Terry informed her. "You asked me to identify the plant needed to replace Enchanted Belladonna in the potion. The problem here being that the enchantment is as much a part of the ingredient as the plant itself. The first several pages were equations to isolate and identify the factors that pertain to the enchantment as opposed to the whole ingredient. I had to call Khronia, my apprenticeship mistress for assistance and even she had difficulty though we prevailed between the two of us."
Hermione flipped to the fifth page that still held equations beyond her comprehension, though they seemed to be getting simpler. She continued turning the pages.
"I think you'll be pleased," Terry continued. "Now that we've discovered the process, if you need any similar tasks performed, we know how. When we work on creating the new potion, we may yet need it."
Hermione nodded to demonstrate she was listening as she finally turned to pages that she could understand. The lines were complex and when she turned to the last page, she had their answer: yarrow root.
A grin split her face as she leaped from her seat and threw her arms around Terry, kissing him on the cheek. "You, Terry Boot, are bloody brilliant!" She let go and danced about their office. Part of her was unsure if she was more excited that they had actually found the information they needed, or that she would get to tell Severus that he was, in fact, incorrect.
"The work is only half done, Hermione," Terry reminded her. "The enchantment is pretty large piece."
"I know," she said. "Which is why I will be spending most of the day in the library at the Ministry doing research. First, however, I must write to our potions expert."
Terry nodded. "I will continue crunching my numbers in the office."
Hermione sat down at her desk to pen her letter.
Dear Mr. Hier,
I assure you that I did not write to receive felicitations; I only sought to update you as to our progress as Mr. Boot continues to run equations on our proposed changes to the ingredients. I write with the same intent today. As you pointed out in your last letter, the most challenging ingredient to replace is the Enchanted Belladonna extract. We have previously discussed a number of options for which Mr. Boot, with the assistance of his former Mistress, Khronia, has run the calculations and we have our answer in regards to the pure ingredient: yarrow.
I imagine you are quite surprised that this is the result, as you did not agree that this ingredient was even a possibility. As I know you are aware, the ingredient itself is only half the battle. The enchantment itself must also be discovered. As a result, I will be spending the day in the Ministry library doing research.
I shall expect my congratulations by return owl.
Cheers,
Hermione Weasley
She dropped the letter at the mail department before making her way to the Ministry two blocks away. While many witches and wizards chose to use the Floo Nàetwork or apparate, Hermione always chose to walk the short distance. Really, it took more energy to apparate than to walk and she had never liked the Floo Network with the ashes flying up her nose and down her throat. Besides, there was a coffee stand on the way and she could use a little pick-me-up from some caffeine.
After she arrived at the library, she signed in and began carefully selecting her books. Settling into her desk, she opened the first book to read and was promptly interrupted.
"Hermione! I didn't anticipate seeing you here," a voice said behind her.
Hermione turned to see Ginny. She smiled. "Hello Gin. I'm doing some research for the Wolfsbane project."
Ginny nodded. "All work and no play it seems. That might explain why I nearly never see you."
"Well—I—well... I have no real defense for that," Hermione admitted. "Things are quite busy. Two children and a full time job are not easy to balance, especially when I am virtually forced to work weekends right now. My Potions Master is a bit... less than accommodating."
"So a bit like Snape, then?" Ginny asked.
"You have no idea," Hermione said, hiding her smile with her hand.
Ginny sat down at the empty desk beside her. "I'll be honest with you, Hermione: we are worried about you."
"There is nothing to worry about," Hermione said. "I am fine and the children are fine. We're just busy."
"The children are fine, yes," Ginny said. "Rosie is growing like a weed and Hugo is a chubby cheeked angel, but you, Hermione, are who I'm worried about."
"I'm fine. Really. You have no need to be worried about me," Hermione replied.
"I beg to differ. You look exhausted, there are bags under your eyes, and I think you've lost at least a stone," Ginny protested.
"The bags are due to my children waking up impossibly early this morning," Hermione informed her. "As for losing a stone, perhaps it is merely the flattering cut of these new robes."
Ginny shook her head. "No, you couldn't afford to lose a stone as it was but that is a story unto itself. Is it work or the kids that are wearing you thin?"
"Neither," Hermione said.
Ginny shook her head. "I know Mum has offered to have you live with her and Dad. I don't blame you for not wanting to do that, honestly, but you could hire on help."
"Other than needing baby sitters on the weekend on occasion, I really don't need anymore help with Molly watching the kids while I am at work. I don't even have to prepare meals most days," Hermione replied.
"And that's another thing," Ginny started. "You should not be giving up your weekend time, the time with your children, for work."
"If there were another way, I would do it," Hermione said, "But with our current arrangement, I am expected to be in the office every day and can't meet with my potions expert except on weekends."
"Like you're in the office today," Ginny pointed out.
"This is different," Hermione protested.
"How? And how is it different when Hestia spends most of her days at the Ministry or in Oxford? Or Terry doing work for other departments?" Ginny questioned.
"Because I'm the department head. This," she said, gesturing at the books, "is different. I'm researching."
Ginny shook her head. "I would continue to argue if I thought it would make a difference but I have my own work to do. Research for an article."
"It was nice seeing you," she said. "Even though you lecture almost as well as your mother."
Ginny gave her a disgusted look. "I love my mother, but never say something like that again. Harry wants to have you and the children over for tea soon. We'll owl you."
"That sounds lovely," Hermione said. "Good luck with your research."
"You too," Ginny said, getting up and leaving.
Hermione sighed and turned to her book. While she did not like being lectured like she was a small child, she did appreciate that so many people cared about her and the children. Perhaps she could use help, but it was not likely to come soon. In the meantime, she would need to do just what she had done in the time since Ron's death: survive.
Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay in posting. Thankfully I live where an inch of snow is cause for panic so work was canceled, and I suddenly had time to finish edits.
After a long bout of no functional spell-check in my Open-Office, I finally consulted the mighty google and figured out how to fix it. Yay!
As I feared when I decided to start publishing without the entire story written, I have run out of pre-written chapters. I am trying desperately to continue to knock out a chapter a week but I make no guarantees. I'm a newlywed who works full time and spends half her weekend driving 90 minutes each way to husband's church (he is a part-time pastor).
To the anonymous reviewer who keeps pointing out the mistakes that remain: Thanks for pointing it out but I'm telling you now it isn't getting fix until this summer. I'm struggling to scrounge out writing/editing time for new chapters; the old stuff has to wait.
Thank you to DanB86 for her beta work. Any remaining grammar/spelling mistakes were doubtlessly added after the edited chapter.