Holiday fic #3!
Dec. 15th, 2005 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trinityvixenFor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jethrien:
Bah Humbug
Bytrinityvixen
Fandom: Harry Potter (set during Sorcerer’s Stone)
*****
At the end of November, during her first term at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger’s parents sent her a letter asking what teeth-friendly treats they might send to her professors and how many she needed. It was a tradition indulged throughout her muggle education, bringing a Christmas gift to her teachers. Seeing as nearly everyone at Hogwarts already thought she was something of an unbearable kiss-up, she didn’t see the point of discontinuing the practice.
Hermione took her time deciding to whom to give gifts, though. She ruled out Professor Snape almost without thinking; his cruel comments on her academic abilities really put him outside the cakes and snacks type of casual generosity. Professor Bins was dead and not much inclined to socialize even with his most attentive student, and Professor Quirrell would probably faint if she tried to spring a surprise on him. That left Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, and Hagrid, too; though he was not a teacher, he was still a very great--they didn’t come much greater than Hagrid--friend.
The parcels arrived a week before term ended, which didn’t give her much time to deliver the goodies--her Mum had selected a variety of dried fruits and some sugarless after-dinner peppermint patties. Hagrid beamed at her when she brought them to his cabin and got a bit weepy when he saw the milkbone she’d added to the parcel for Fang. Professor Flitwick cheered when he opened his and set to devouring dried mangoes before she’d even gotten out a polite, enthused, “You’re welcome.”
Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, proved surprisingly difficult to track down. Students were in high spirits right before the winter vacation, which translated into more frequent inadvertent jinxing and other magical hijinks and accidents. Given that accidents in McGonagall’s class tended to require more assistance in setting things back to rights than did an accident in Charms, Hermione could not linger long enough after the bell to catch her and deliver her Christmas gift at all for that week.
With one day left before she was to return home for the holidays, Hermione rushed through her lunch and went off to the Transfiguration classroom early in hopes of catching Professor McGonagall there. But when she knocked and received no answer, she peeked in to find the room empty. Of course, she ought to have known; the staff had to lunch as well, which meant she might find her up in the teacher’s lounge.
There was still time to scurry up there, and Hermione set off at once. The stairways were obligingly direct this time of year, not waylaying at all on her trip, and she was outside the staff room in all of five minutes.
She listened first for voices, but no sound made it through the thick wooden door. Hermione knocked and in due time, the door was dragged aside.
By Snape.
To make matters worse, the usually sour Potions Master looked especially irritated; one eyelid twitched erratically, his greasy hair seemed to have gone an extra day without washing, and his reddened nose flared upon catching sight of her bushy head.
“Oh,” Hermione gasped, cheeks going red as she tucked her gift behind her back. “I’m sorry, Professor. I was looking for Professor McGonagall.”
“She’s not here, Granger,” Snape scowled at her, sounding a bit hoarse. “And students aren’t permitted in the staff room.” As he was much taller than her, he easily saw over her shoulder, and his sharp eyes found the parcel in her hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” she said again, looking down at her feet. “It’s nothing, sir, just…” She thought quickly and lighted on a solution that would avoid offending the already volatile Snape. She made a point to squish and crumple the decorative wrapping slightly before showing him the bundle. “It’s just a gift from my parents. You know, since Professor McGonagall is head of Gryffindor House. It’s silly.”
At first, he appeared to agree with her, his thin mouth ticking up into a terrible smile she recognized and loathed. Then something changed. His interest sharpened, and the smile became more pronounced and acutely malevolent.
“Not at all,” Snape murmured keenly. He extended a hand to the package, and for a terrifying moment, Hermione thought he might snatch it away. He did not do so. Instead, he snapped off one of the floral decorations—a sprig of mistletoe. Hermione recalled that, if you stood under mistletoe, you were supposed to kiss people who came by. Somehow, she had a hard time imagining that that was what provoked Snape to seize it off her present. At least, she hoped not.
She was proven correct when he lifted the small branch to his hooked nose and sniffed at it, rubbing the short green leaves between two fingers. “Mistletoe,” he hissed, as if the scent offended. “Actual mistletoe. Quite expensive for a piece of frippery attached to a silly little gift.”
Hermione blinked to keep frustrated tears from welling up. She sorely regretted trying to spare his feelings now. “Oh yes,” she said defiantly, “only the best for a fellow Gryffindor.”
Snape’s smile twisted into a sneer. “I wonder, since you are so fond of memorizing textbooks, if you know of the many dangerous potions in which mistletoe berries are used?”
If she answered, she risked being insulted, but he wouldn’t believe her if she played dumb. “I know the berries are poisonous, sir.”
“Correct,” he said, “but only if brewed with the lack of care you and some of your fellow Gryffindors so often display in my class.”
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to check a retort. It wouldn’t do to snap at a Professor, even one who deserved it as much as Snape did.
When she did not rise to his bait, he continued, “Treated properly, mistletoe berries can produce an extract to combat congestion and excessive phlegm buildup.”
“Yes, sir, that would be very useful.”
Snape sniffed again, no doubt offended that she had taken his momentary pause to clear his throat as a sign that she should speak. He continued as though he had not heard a word. “As it is getting on to winter, I have taken the liberty of procuring some from Hagrid to replenish my stores. However, I am sure, since it is of so little consequence to you, that you would not mind my holding onto this as well.”
He wasn’t asking because he didn’t need to. As the sprig of mistletoe was clutched tightly in his hand, and arguing the point would only land Gryffindor House in more hot water, Hermione dutifully shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Miss Granger?” A thick brogue broke up the air of menace Snape exuded, and Hermione turned, grateful for Professor McGonagall’s interruption. “What brings you up to the teacher’s lounge?”
“Well, Professor,” she stammered, awkwardly holding out her present. “I, uh…this is for you.” Knowing that Snape was watching, she added hastily, “It’s from my parents, since you’re my head of house.”
McGonagall looked truly and deeply touched, and she stooped to accept the proffered bundle. “That is very kind of you and them, Miss Granger. Be sure to give them my thanks. Happy Christmas,” she said with a kindly grin and bright eyes.
“Happy Christmas, Professor.” Hermione stood aside, hefting her school bag higher on her shoulder as McGonagall passed into the staff room, Snape on her heels. Hermione caught a glimpse of a teakettle steaming on an open fire. It had been boiling whilst she’d been talking to Snape and was now near to the point of whistling. Snape levitated it off the fire and out of her sight.
The door closed, but not before she heard McGonagall cluck her tongue and say, with some exasperation, “Oh no, Severus, surely you’ve not caught cold again ?”
Prompt was: Hermione, McGonagall, Snape, teakettle(s), and mistletoe
jethrien:Bah Humbug
By
trinityvixenFandom: Harry Potter (set during Sorcerer’s Stone)
At the end of November, during her first term at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger’s parents sent her a letter asking what teeth-friendly treats they might send to her professors and how many she needed. It was a tradition indulged throughout her muggle education, bringing a Christmas gift to her teachers. Seeing as nearly everyone at Hogwarts already thought she was something of an unbearable kiss-up, she didn’t see the point of discontinuing the practice.
Hermione took her time deciding to whom to give gifts, though. She ruled out Professor Snape almost without thinking; his cruel comments on her academic abilities really put him outside the cakes and snacks type of casual generosity. Professor Bins was dead and not much inclined to socialize even with his most attentive student, and Professor Quirrell would probably faint if she tried to spring a surprise on him. That left Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, and Hagrid, too; though he was not a teacher, he was still a very great--they didn’t come much greater than Hagrid--friend.
The parcels arrived a week before term ended, which didn’t give her much time to deliver the goodies--her Mum had selected a variety of dried fruits and some sugarless after-dinner peppermint patties. Hagrid beamed at her when she brought them to his cabin and got a bit weepy when he saw the milkbone she’d added to the parcel for Fang. Professor Flitwick cheered when he opened his and set to devouring dried mangoes before she’d even gotten out a polite, enthused, “You’re welcome.”
Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, proved surprisingly difficult to track down. Students were in high spirits right before the winter vacation, which translated into more frequent inadvertent jinxing and other magical hijinks and accidents. Given that accidents in McGonagall’s class tended to require more assistance in setting things back to rights than did an accident in Charms, Hermione could not linger long enough after the bell to catch her and deliver her Christmas gift at all for that week.
With one day left before she was to return home for the holidays, Hermione rushed through her lunch and went off to the Transfiguration classroom early in hopes of catching Professor McGonagall there. But when she knocked and received no answer, she peeked in to find the room empty. Of course, she ought to have known; the staff had to lunch as well, which meant she might find her up in the teacher’s lounge.
There was still time to scurry up there, and Hermione set off at once. The stairways were obligingly direct this time of year, not waylaying at all on her trip, and she was outside the staff room in all of five minutes.
She listened first for voices, but no sound made it through the thick wooden door. Hermione knocked and in due time, the door was dragged aside.
By Snape.
To make matters worse, the usually sour Potions Master looked especially irritated; one eyelid twitched erratically, his greasy hair seemed to have gone an extra day without washing, and his reddened nose flared upon catching sight of her bushy head.
“Oh,” Hermione gasped, cheeks going red as she tucked her gift behind her back. “I’m sorry, Professor. I was looking for Professor McGonagall.”
“She’s not here, Granger,” Snape scowled at her, sounding a bit hoarse. “And students aren’t permitted in the staff room.” As he was much taller than her, he easily saw over her shoulder, and his sharp eyes found the parcel in her hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” she said again, looking down at her feet. “It’s nothing, sir, just…” She thought quickly and lighted on a solution that would avoid offending the already volatile Snape. She made a point to squish and crumple the decorative wrapping slightly before showing him the bundle. “It’s just a gift from my parents. You know, since Professor McGonagall is head of Gryffindor House. It’s silly.”
At first, he appeared to agree with her, his thin mouth ticking up into a terrible smile she recognized and loathed. Then something changed. His interest sharpened, and the smile became more pronounced and acutely malevolent.
“Not at all,” Snape murmured keenly. He extended a hand to the package, and for a terrifying moment, Hermione thought he might snatch it away. He did not do so. Instead, he snapped off one of the floral decorations—a sprig of mistletoe. Hermione recalled that, if you stood under mistletoe, you were supposed to kiss people who came by. Somehow, she had a hard time imagining that that was what provoked Snape to seize it off her present. At least, she hoped not.
She was proven correct when he lifted the small branch to his hooked nose and sniffed at it, rubbing the short green leaves between two fingers. “Mistletoe,” he hissed, as if the scent offended. “Actual mistletoe. Quite expensive for a piece of frippery attached to a silly little gift.”
Hermione blinked to keep frustrated tears from welling up. She sorely regretted trying to spare his feelings now. “Oh yes,” she said defiantly, “only the best for a fellow Gryffindor.”
Snape’s smile twisted into a sneer. “I wonder, since you are so fond of memorizing textbooks, if you know of the many dangerous potions in which mistletoe berries are used?”
If she answered, she risked being insulted, but he wouldn’t believe her if she played dumb. “I know the berries are poisonous, sir.”
“Correct,” he said, “but only if brewed with the lack of care you and some of your fellow Gryffindors so often display in my class.”
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to check a retort. It wouldn’t do to snap at a Professor, even one who deserved it as much as Snape did.
When she did not rise to his bait, he continued, “Treated properly, mistletoe berries can produce an extract to combat congestion and excessive phlegm buildup.”
“Yes, sir, that would be very useful.”
Snape sniffed again, no doubt offended that she had taken his momentary pause to clear his throat as a sign that she should speak. He continued as though he had not heard a word. “As it is getting on to winter, I have taken the liberty of procuring some from Hagrid to replenish my stores. However, I am sure, since it is of so little consequence to you, that you would not mind my holding onto this as well.”
He wasn’t asking because he didn’t need to. As the sprig of mistletoe was clutched tightly in his hand, and arguing the point would only land Gryffindor House in more hot water, Hermione dutifully shook her head. “No, sir.”
“Miss Granger?” A thick brogue broke up the air of menace Snape exuded, and Hermione turned, grateful for Professor McGonagall’s interruption. “What brings you up to the teacher’s lounge?”
“Well, Professor,” she stammered, awkwardly holding out her present. “I, uh…this is for you.” Knowing that Snape was watching, she added hastily, “It’s from my parents, since you’re my head of house.”
McGonagall looked truly and deeply touched, and she stooped to accept the proffered bundle. “That is very kind of you and them, Miss Granger. Be sure to give them my thanks. Happy Christmas,” she said with a kindly grin and bright eyes.
“Happy Christmas, Professor.” Hermione stood aside, hefting her school bag higher on her shoulder as McGonagall passed into the staff room, Snape on her heels. Hermione caught a glimpse of a teakettle steaming on an open fire. It had been boiling whilst she’d been talking to Snape and was now near to the point of whistling. Snape levitated it off the fire and out of her sight.
The door closed, but not before she heard McGonagall cluck her tongue and say, with some exasperation, “Oh no, Severus, surely you’ve not caught cold again ?”
Prompt was: Hermione, McGonagall, Snape, teakettle(s), and mistletoe
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-15 11:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 03:25 pm (UTC)I picked first year because it was the least angsty, and Hermione was still a bit of an apple-polisher but not unsympathetic (and not yet meddling everywhich way). Snape was hard to get because it's not fun to make him Eeeeeeeevil or ANGSTY like he seems to show up in fandom. Just cranky worked for me, so I'm happy it seemed to work for you.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 06:20 pm (UTC)