Hot and Spicy

On Sunday, Andrene and Hermione continued their lessons. They'd spent all day Saturday working on what Andrene called the most important skill a Firewalker possessed: the warding wall that would both tune out the emotions of others and keep Hermione's own emotions from being read.

"I understand it is important, Andrene, but surely it is not the most important thing I can do? I mean...it doesn't even do anything! It's just a buffer to protect me, isn't it?"

"Yes, that is true enough, as far as it goes, girl. But don't be thinkin' that this is only to keep the madness at bay; you are goin' ta need that buffer everyday of your life if you don't want ta turn into a hard-hearted woman. Blouse and skirt, girl! Do you think it's going to be a fun thing to always be knowing what other's feel about you?"

Her eyes opening wide in surprise, Hermione was shocked she'd never given this particular aspect of her gift much thought.

"It's a powerful useful thing to be able to know how others feel, and to see the truth in men's hearts--even when they use honeyed false words to your face. But it is a hard thing, girl, to always know what other's feel about you. You know that there are people in your life that just don't like you; that's normal. But how shall you feel when you find out that boy or girl that you always thought liked you just fine wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire?"

"It will upset me," Hermione said in naked honesty.

"Yes, child, yes it will. You listen to me, girl, and you listen good. We got no time for you to go all hard-ears on me. You will find out that in each person's life they find three kinds of people: they is a few that will hate you, they is a few that will love you, an all the masses in between couldn't care less about you one way or the other. It's important for you to remember that this is normal for all peoples, not just Empaths. You will think for a while that you are the most unloved girl in the universe, but that is not true. We all of us have those few who do, those few who don't, and all them folks who can't make up they minds."

Brightening a bit, Hermione chuckled at the Firewalker's blunt speech. "I will remember that, Andrene."

Chuckling as well, Andrene replied, "See that you do. Keep your wards up unless you need to know something. Besides, girl, all those folks who could care less about you, you probably don't give much of a damn about them either. Don't seek to have the masses love you girl, it would be nothing but work and trouble if they did. Just take comfort in the few who love you as you is. They the only folks who matter."

"There is another thing that will cause you trouble, Hermione. You will find that even the folks who love you will not always want your help. This can be maddening, to know that there is someone who is hurting and to have your concern turned away. This gift comes with great responsibility. You must use it when you can to help others, but you must remember that not all others will want your help, and that is their decision to make. You can not force them and--in the end--you are not responsible for any life but your own."

"Andrene, why in the world would anyone refuse something that would help them?"

"People are not made of logic, girl. They are mixed up, emotional creatures. Don't try to figure them out, just try to accept that all any of us can do is try to muddle through life the best we can."

"I will try, Andrene," Hermione said with a sigh.

"You are doing very well at keeping a gentle level of the buffering ward up all the time. Now I want you to focus on making it as strong as you can, visualize it as a wall around you that none can breach. Do you see it?"

Looking calmly at the older woman, Hermione nodded her head. She could feel the ward around her; almost see it crackling with energy.

"Right then," Andrene continued. "I am going to project at you, as I did the other night. Focus on keeping me out." Gazing at Hermione intently, the Firewalker projected strong fear at the girl, and felt it meeting and beating itself against the young Gryffindor's protective ward. Her student was doing quite well; the ward was strong and held steady. It was time to see how well she focused when distracted. Inwardly, Andrene chuckled at the subtle trick she would use against her student. Still projecting fiercely, Andrene said, "You are a quick study. Your winjy looking Professor was quite right in what he said of you. He is an interesting man, is he not? Why, if I were a few years younger, I'd be trying to see if he is really the grindsman he looks..."

Hermione's ward abruptly failed, allowing the fear Andrene was projecting to wash over her in strong waves. Unable to either raise her wards or ignore her reaction, Hermione retreated with a startled cry. Stopping the projection, Andrene regarded her student with kind, yet serious eyes. "This shows you two things girl. It is imperative you keep working on your focus. If you want to help those you love in this war, you cannot afford to let anything break your concentration. It is also important to remember how very easy it is for an Empath to use a person's emotions against them. Think before you act. Think before you speak. Do not seek to manipulate a person just because you can."

Blushing, Hermione stammered, "Am I so...transparent then?"

The Firewalker's laugh echoed through the room. "To me girl, you is as hard to see through as glass! But I would not be fretting about it girl. Your Professor is an observant man for certain, but he is hopelessly obtuse where you be concerned."

"Andrene, what does he feel about me?" Hermione asked softly.

"Now if I were to be answering that, I be cheating for certain. That man is a good test for you; he hide his emotions almost from him own self. You wish to read him, then you'll be working on your lessons harder than I could ever convince you. Make my job dead easy, it does!" Andrene finished with another rich laugh.

"You are positively wicked!" Hermione said with a chuckle of her own.

"Ain't I just?" The two women laughed for a moment, then returned to work. By the end of the afternoon, Hermione could keep her protective wall at full strength no matter how the Firewalker teased and tormented her.

When Turpin romped into the room about an hour before dinner, Andrene declared they'd worked enough for one day. Seating herself at the desk, Andrene wrote a letter home while Hermione and Turpin sat together at the window seat. Turpin was lying sprawled on his back and Hermione idly stroked his stomach while she read aloud to him from "The Hobbit." Turpin was thoroughly enchanted by the fact that the dwarves had taken Bilbo along with them in the position of 'Thief' and Hermione suspected Turpin wished he was along for the adventure.

Finishing her letter, Andrene quietly contemplated the young witch at the window. The girl is doing better than I could have hoped. I'll be back to my Jamaica by the end of the week for certain. The Firewalker's eyes narrowed for a moment. She does well, but something is distracting her and I need to be getting to the bottom of it before the girl starts learning to project. Though Hermione had her buffer up--something the Firewalker suggested she learn to sustain at all times--it was no longer at a level completely blocking all emotion. The experienced Empath had no trouble slipping her focus through the ward and gently probing the young woman's emotions. Strongest were eagerness and a gentle pride. She was enjoying her lessons then, but where is the problem? Andrene probed deeper. Ah...here it is...a bit of loneliness...a touch of wistfulness...why the girl is pining! I know she is intrigued by that black-eyed rat-bat, but are her feelings for him so strong that she pines for him after a separation of a brace of days? Hmm...that should be easy enough to find out...

Rising, Andrene walked over to the lounging pair at the window seat. Reaching a hand down, she tickled the half-dozing Jarvey. Sputtering and giggling uncontrollably, Turpin leapt to his feet to regard the Firewalker with surprised eyes.

"If you're going to be grabbing at me, you teasin' tart, why don't you have a go at me wedding tackle and have done with it?" Turpin said with an obvious leer at Andrene.

"Charming as the thought is," Andrene began, laughing, "I think I'll give it a pass. Do us a favor, you reprehensible weasel. Go ask your master to come here. Tell him it's a matter of life and death," she finished with a wink.

"Life and death, is it? Syphilis might hex you for teasing him...sounds like fun!" With a pointy-toothed grin, the Jarvey launched himself off the window seat and disappeared through the cat flap in the door leading to the rest of Professor Snape's rooms. Turpin must have been eloquent indeed, for--within moments--Severus burst through the door, wand drawn, robes billowing behind him. His look of concern quickly melted into one of puzzled displeasure when his penetrating glance took in no immediate danger. He focused his glare on the Firewalker calmly grinning at him.

"May I ask, Madame, if it isn't too much trouble," Severus hissed, "exactly why you have--with so little ceremony--distracted me from my work, when you obviously have no need of my presence?"

"Ah, but you are mistaken for certain, Professor, because we have desperate need of you. As important as Hermione's training is, two women stuck staring at each other while locked in a room for a whole week is bound to lead to nothing but badness. Won't you take dinner with us? You will save one of us from killing the other out of sheer boredom for certain!" Andrene finished with a grin.

"Though I understand the apprehension with which you face a whole week in the sole company of this foolish young Gryffindor," Severus sneered, "I fail to see that it is any concern of mine." Severus couldn't stop a quick glance at the Gryffindor in question. He was startled to note, in spite of his unwelcoming speech, Miss Granger simply regarded him with one of her beaming smiles. Damn and blast! Must the girl be forever smiling at him? It was almost as if she had missed him. Impossible! There was no way in hell such a lovely young witch could ever have actual feelings for an ugly, bitter, old man such as himself. She was most likely simply grateful that he'd been useful to her when she was in need. That must be it...gratitude...she was beaming at him with gratitude, nothing more. When she approached him, he was both hopeful and terrified that she intended to give him one of those nerve-wracking hugs. He was ashamed to find himself experiencing a rather crushing disappointment when Miss Granger simply rested a hand lightly on his arm.

"Won't you please stay, sir?" Hermione asked softly, looking up at him shyly. "I've missed our discussions."

Ah, he could understand that. An intelligent young witch like Hermione would miss intellectual discourse. Quite foolish, really, for him to have imagined she missed his person in any way. Severus tried to brush aside the ridiculous disappointment he felt at this realization. Looking down at her earnest face, Severus debated with himself. On the one hand, it wasn't prudent to submit to the torture of putting himself voluntarily too often in the young woman's company. On the other hand, he couldn't deny the fact he had missed her, and looking down at her hopeful expression was a bittersweet pleasure he did not wish to deny himself. With a gruff sigh, he gave Hermione a nod of agreement, not trusting his voice to not reveal too much. He was both pleased and distressed by the huge smile she gave him in answer. Removing her hand from his arm, he moved to the hearth, flooing the kitchens for their dinner.

Andrene had enjoyed their little exchange immensely. Blouse and skirt! You could practically see the sexual tension sparking between the two, the daft things. He was a stubborn man for certain; the little Firewalker was going to have her hands full with that one. It's just as well she's an Empath; she's likely the only woman around here that has a chance of figuring the secretive man out. Ha! She'll need her talents just to handle the mixed-up bubu. Here the girl had stared up at him--practically radiating something that was rapidly growing into adoration--and what the black-eyed man felt most was puzzlement and a rather hopeless longing. That man wears his solitude like armor; it will take the girl some time to worry a few chinks into it.

It took little time for the house elves to arrive and set up a table with enough of the usual Hogwarts fare for three. While Severus and Hermione began eating with enjoyment, Andrene picked at the English meal. Noticing her reluctance, Severus wondered if the skeletal woman always ate in such fashion, or if the food itself was the problem.

"Madame Christie, is anything amiss? If the food is not to your liking, I assure you it would be no trouble to request something else," Severus inquired politely.

"An get more of the same? No, thank you. Must you English boil everything?" she inquired with a good-natured chuckle. "And do you know there are spices other than salt and black pepper? Perhaps they are mystical here in Britain, but I am assuring you they exist for certain."

Severus did not attempt to hold back a chuckle of his own, and as he did so, he couldn't help but notice the pleased surprise washing over Miss Granger's face at the sound. "Ah...I see. I imagine you find our fare a bit bland."

"Cha! 'A bit bland.' That is like saying a three-day-dead fish is a bit renk. I've a mind to show you what you be missing." Rising, Andrene strode to the hearth, threw in a handful of floo powder, and after a clearly stated "Shorty's" she disappeared.

Turning to Miss Granger with an upraised eyebrow, Severus said, "I wonder what we can expect from a dining establishment named "Shorty's." He managed to put an abundance of disdain into the restaurant's name. By the time Hermione's giggles had died down, the Firewalker had returned.

"Shorty's has the best jerk chicken in all of Negril," Andrene said proudly as she began to dish the food she had returned with onto each of their plates. Hermione looked at it with interest. There was a simple rice dish with an odd sort of spotted bean that Andrene referred to as 'rice and peas,' as well as the chicken dish.

Severus stabbed a small piece of the chicken with his fork, brought it up to his nose and sniffed it curiously. Lifting his eyebrows in pleased surprise, Severus popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "This is quite good, Madame Christie, thank you for fetching it." Popping a larger bite into his mouth, he closed his eyes in enjoyment; focusing intently on the unusual blend of flavors.

Emboldened by her Professor's example, Hermione took a large bite herself. Her face took on a look of complete shock. Sputtering, she barely got the bite swallowed before she grabbed her pumpkin juice and downed the entire glass. Amused, Severus calmly handed her his own glass of juice and went back to eating the fiery jerk chicken with obvious enjoyment. Andrene laughed heartily at her student's red, sweating face and suggested she try the rice and peas on its own. "That should be bland enough even for an Englishwoman."

That set a routine for the remainder of the week. Andrene and Hermione would work all day and then Severus would join them for dinner. Andrene always floo'd out to one restaurant or another and brought a wide array of spicy dishes back to share with Professor Snape. After the jerk chicken fiasco, Hermione predominantly stuck with food from the Hogwarts kitchens. Twice Severus tricked her into trying something Andrene had brought, telling her it wasn't terribly hot and then calmly handing her his glass of juice and chuckling as she sputtered. By Thursday night's dinner, Hermione had made enough progress in her studies that she could tell he was lying, thus ending his fun at her expense. On Friday night, Andrene brought an African dish called Doro Wot. Hermione didn't need to rely on her abilities to see that this dish wasn't for her. It was so hot the smell alone brought tears to her eyes. This dish proved to be Professor Snape's favorite, and he requested the restaurant's direction from Andrene before he left for the evening. Hermione simply didn't understand how he could eat the stuff. She rather thought one could use it to strip paint off walls.

On Saturday evening, as Hermione lay on her cot trying to get to sleep, she found she was rather sad. Andrene was leaving the next day; she said Hermione now knew all the building blocks of how to use her empathy--all she required was practice. She would miss the cheerful Firewalker. Trying to distract herself from thinking about Andrene's departure, Hermione decided to ask the Firewalker a question that had been bothering her all week.

"Andrene?" she called softly.

"Yes, child?"

"What's a grindsman?"

Andrene's throaty laugh echoed in the dark room. She had been expecting Hermione to ask this question since Sunday. "Well girl, a grindsman is a man who shows great prowess in bed."

While Hermione could not hold back a startled squeak, she blessed the darkness of the room for hiding the blush that she knew graced her features. Now she was even more distracted. It was a long time before Hermione at last slipped into sleep.