A Little Help from My… Friends?

Chapter Four: A Little Help from My... Friends?

Six weeks later, the only real signs of the time passed were dark smudges under Hermione Granger's eyes.

"You look like Hell again."

Hermione clenched her teeth, but kept poring over Mr Jellyby's latest "corrections" to the changes that needed making in Article Nine.

"It's all right if you don't want to tell me about it," Ron continued cheerfully. "Me and Harry'll just talk about you behind your back till we either work out what's wrong, or till someone overhears us talking and comes up with a really good rumour!"

Well, that did it. She turned her head towards the magic window struggling to light her tiny office. Maybe if he couldn't actually see her face...even just the profile...

"Ron..."

"I don't want to hear more of your crap about Jellyby and laws, Hermione." Forgetting she wanted to hide her face, she turned at his sharp tones. He peeled himself way the doorjamb and, crossing the office in four steps, planted his hands on the back of her chair. "Saving vermin never kept you up nights for weeks at a time before."

It was no use, Hermione realised. Ron was too clever and she was too tired. If she wanted to keep anything from Harry...and keep everything from the gossipy Wizarding society...she'd have to come clean with Ron. But...

"Doxys are sapient beings, and I mean to keep at it until they are considered Beings, and oh, God, Ronald!" She sighed and leant back against his strong arms. "I've been having these... dreams. Every night for the past month or so. I barely get any rest even those nights I sleep soon as I get home."

"You can tell me everything over a couple of sandwiches."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Evening came early, just as it did every autumn. That was doubly true in The Dell, but the coming of darkness wasn't his only consideration. Severus still rose when he chose...albeit deep into the night instead of just before dawn, or at noon, or any of the other times that had been his wont at some point or another...but these days he had more than one reason for remaining in bed.

In bed was where he and the hand-witch spent their days. Only when night arrived, and his subconscious noted the peculiar numbing of his left ante-brachial region that meant she was falling asleep, did they climb out of their diurnal sanctuary and work.

If they happened to wake a bit early... Well, if that happened, they had favourite ways of occupying the time.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Ron pulled out a pen and a little leather-covered notebook.

"Did you know Muggle coppers don't really carry these? Everyone thinks they do, but they don't. But Kinglsey thinks they should, and he told Robards, and Robards gave 'em to us."

Hermione stared.

"Right." He uncapped the pen and opened the notebook. "Tell me everything."

~o~

"...almost as if I were in a fairy story."

"Mmm, yes. I see. Giant cauldron, giant wand, giant house, giant Shrivelfigs, giant meals..." He looked up at her with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Think there's a theme here?"

Too agitated to give more than a shrug for an answer, Hermione bit into her sandwich.

Ron tapped his pen against the table. She noticed...in a vague sort of way...that he hadn't touched his own meal.

"Listen, Hermione." He leant forward and lowered his voice. "I don't want to scare you or anything, but these dreams... It sounds like you've been hexed."

Her eyes widened, but her mouth was full.

"Well, you've been reading that Doxy book in Giant-speak a lot, yeah?" He stared into the distance over her left shoulder and said, as if to himself, "Maybe it's connected somehow."

"Maybe." She wondered if he was going to eat his sandwich. In the dreams, the giant...she hadn't revealed her giant's identity...never shared any of his giant meals with her.

"Where did you get the book, Hermione?"

"Books," she corrected around another bite of sandwich. She really was hungry! "I have several, and I get them from... My procurer gets them for me. Please, Ron, I can't tell you any more about him than that."

"It's not Hagrid, is it?" He looked sceptical, and he nodded when she shook her head. "I'm not saying you shouldn't trust this bloke...you shouldn't call him your procurer, by the way. Makes him sound like a pimp...but even if there's nothing Dark to this, I think we had better get you checked out at St Mungo's."

Things moved rather quickly once she'd reluctantly agreed to his cautionary measures. Less than ten minutes later, they stood in front of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Hermione handed over the keys to her flat, and Ron had to shrink down the sandwich he'd stuffed into his pocket so they would fit.

Neither one of them had noticed the slightly disreputable-looking woman sitting in a darkened corner of the restaurant...or that she'd had a Quick-Quotes Quill scribbling furiously.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

One of Minerva McGonagall's orders of business as headmistress of the newly reopened Hogwarts Schools for Witchcraft and Wizardry had been to officially ban all Owl Post deliveries to the Great Hall after the morning meal. She firmly believed having owls fly about during dinner was inherently more vulgar than having them do so at breakfast. House-elves were usually used to deliver the Evening Prophet to the few professors and even fewer students who subscribed to that edition.

Minerva didn't take any edition of the wizarding rag, so she was perplexed, but not overly concerned when...halfway through his supper...her Care of Magical Creatures professor turned grey upon receipt of his. She didn't particularly notice, truth be told. But when he tried to shove back his chair, and succeeded in shoving the staff table forward, her attention was well and truly caught. (As was that of everyone else in the Great Hall.)

"Sit down, Professor Hagrid." Once he'd complied (immediately, of course), she issued a second and a third order. "Explain yourself. Quietly."

"I... Er, that is..."

Knowing it could take the half-giant half the night to fumble out an explanation, Minerva sped things up by Summoning the offending newspaper to her hand.

Who Hexed Hermione?

The article itself...written by "special consultant, recently out of retirement" Rita Skeeter...was long and twisting (not to mention doubtlessly full of half-truths and prevarications), but the gist was simple enough: The Auror Office were investigating a case of an attack...possibly perpetrated by giants...on Hermione Granger. She'd been rushed to St Mungo's that very afternoon, and she hadn't been seen at the Ministry since.

Minerva stood and walked behind three other teachers till she stood at Hagrid's ear.

"And just what did you intend to do about this?"

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

For the fiftieth or sixtieth time that week, the rich odour of fecund soil saturated Severus's olfactory epithelium as he crouched at the end of a row of diminutive trees. As others had been just over an hour before, this final tree was fairly bowed under the weight of its fruit.

"But why is it always so warm?" she asked, tiny hands grasping a stalk and tugging.

"Try thinking instead of asking inane questions, and you'll have your answer." He nodded at the basket of stalks and fruit at his feet. She yawned...he was adjusting to their new semi-nocturnal schedule far more easily than she was doing...and harvested another stalk. He sighed. "Where did Shrivelfigs originate, Granger?" (She preferred "Handmione", but he couldn't bring himself to use such a ridiculous name; deciding on "Granger" had stopped them arguing, at least.)

"Abyssinia," she said, grabbing at another branchlet. The fruit on that one was ripe to the point of bursting, and he pushed it out of her reach.

"Your hands are small enough," he told her.

"Too small for some things, according to some."

"According to one. And they do well enough...now you've had some practice...at the things that matter. Now tear your mind from the gutter and tell me: The climates of Ethiopia and the Scottish Highlands are similar how?"

"Oh." The little hand-witch yawned again. "That makes sense, then. But how do you maintain the ligh...?" Another yawn cut off her query, but he'd had enough of her chatter anyway. Besides, their basket was teeming.

"Enough!" he told her. "Enough questions and enough harvesting. As it is, I'll be hard-pressed to process what we have now if you mean to spend the night skiving."

"Skiving! I..." Her protest was shortened by a yawn that nearly split her face in two.

Severus smiled while her eyes were squeezed shut. He thought it adorable, almost, the way her little face scrunched up with exhaustion. But there was no need for her to know that.

~o~

A loud crack! announced the arrival of the first guest they'd had in weeks.

Severus shoved Handmione into her sling and raced towards his little cottage, leaving the basket behind.

A red-faced Longbottom was rushing in from the Apparation point, clutching a bunched-up newspaper in his hand. "Hagrid... Headmistress... Coming," he panted as he reached them. "I think they know."

Snape sneered and snatched his left arm free of its confinement. "Of course they know, you twit! I'm sure you lost no time tattling to mummy after last time."

"I didn't! I told her your hand was disfigured...sorry, Hermione...but you seemed to have found a way to use it!"

"Handmione," she corrected as Severus said, "Right! And that's why the Harpy of Hogwarts and Tweedledum are on their way."

"Read it!" Neville pushed the pleated paper into Severus's right hand. "I was only trying to warn you!" With that, he stalked back to the centre of the vale. Moments later, he turned on his heel and was gone.

As it turned out, he was only just in time.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

"I ain't sure what's happened, Headmistress," Hagrid said as he and Minerva steadied themselves after the Side-Along-Apparation. "It weren't a proper spell, like. Only, you said, 'Severus can stand ter allus have someone at...'"

"You'd better leave this to me," Minerva told him. She wanted to ask him how he'd been so awesomely stupid, but she firmly believed in keeping up staff morale by not brow-beating her professors, so she resisted that urge. "Give me fifteen minutes alone with him. I'll call if I need you sooner than that."

"Aw right, Headmistress. I'll jus' go an' check on me babies, then."

She was too busy working out how she was going to excuse her presence to care that Hagrid sounded utterly dejected.

~o~

"Now, you're just being a parsimonious old codger! New robes aren't that expensive, and both Neville and Hagrid say the business is doing splendidly."

"Well, of course! If those two bastions of intelligence say so..."

"They showed me the ledgers! Ledgers which, you might recall, you spelled to copy exactly figures you put down in the originals."

"And in reading those ledgers, you apparently neglected to consider that this is currently my only source of income." Snape fixed her with a put-upon glare. "Unlike your two pet idiots, I don't have another job that comes with food on my table and a roof over my head!"

Minerva snorted inelegantly, casting a disdain glance around the small, barren room. "I hardly think you spend more than a handful of Knuts on your monthly upkeep."

"I beg your pardon, madam!"

She matched him glare for glower. "You cook your meals in a cauldron!" The fierce stare twisted into a devious smile. "That is, if one can call the inferior potions ingredients you seem to survive on 'meals'."

"Just because you never learnt to cook anything edible, you old..."

"Need I remind you, Professor Snape, that I am still your employer, and I can order you back to the castle to receive medical care at any time? It's in the contract for your sabbatical." She folded her arms across her chest and nodded at the arm he was supporting in a sling. "It's in my best interest to ensure my Potions master is able to perform his duties once he returns permanently. And speaking of your sabbatical, you are supposed to assess Professor Lovegood's progress before the end of term. I could order you back to do that just as easily."

~o~

Severus knew when he was defeated, and Minerva McGonagall had thoroughly outclassed him simply by virtue of outranking him. That didn't stop him fighting.

"Fine! I'll just go back with you tonight. We'll all just ignore what your pet idiot has done to me. I'm sure no one will say a word about it!" He yanked him arm from the sling and showed her what the half-giant, whole-imbecile had wrought.

Her jaw dropped, and for several seconds silence ruled until she found her voice. "Oh... dear." She leaned in for a closer look, but Severus snatched a heavy wool mitten from one of his trouser pockets and quickly covered the evidence of Hagrid's misdeeds.

I'll be damned if I'll let the meddlesome beldam leer at my little... Unwilling to finish the unbidden thought, he said, "Whatever idiot decided that barbarian should be given a new wand..."

"Just be glad I never said 'under foot'!" McGonagall barked, having got over her shock. "I shudder to imagine what he might have left you with then."

Snape snorted, and a nasty-looking smile darkened his already saturnine features.

"If only he had," he groused. "A stout boot would do a lot more towards shutting up the annoying wench." Ignoring the muffled protests coming from beneath the mitten, he added a darkly muttered, "With any luck, she might even suffocate."

"Severus!" McGonagall glared at him as Hagrid lumbered through the door to stare stupidly at the pair.

"Heard yeh have a guest, Sev'rus. How's she suit yer, then?" His toothy grin was begging to be Crucio-ed off his face.

Severus could feel...the other Granger must be fully awake, then...his hand-witch squirming beneath the mitten. If the tiny fists he saw forming beneath the black wool were any indication, she was as cross with the imbecilic half-troll...Severus grinned at the idea of Hagrid having troll ancestry...as he was.

"Hrggggeddd! Werdderuddyherrerooheeking?"

"I beg your pardon!" said McGonagall as Snape asked, "What in Hell did you just say?" and Hagrid said, "Well, I weren't thinkin', as such. Not at the moment, like."

Hagrid grinned, even though Snape's hand...or the Handmione that had taken its place...was still covered. "Worked it all out before, but I dint 'spect you'd be the one, H'mione!"

"Nueryeneuw, urdoorit!"

"I dunno," Hagrid said, frowning. "See, I was tryin' ter help Sev'rus, an' I don' know as it would be all that helpful if I were ter do that."

Severus exchanged glances with McGonagall. She shrugged. He sneered. They continued in this manner as Hagrid kept up a lively debate with Severus's screaming hand.

"Seberus? Werabermee?" Her increasingly shrill voice assured Severus that she was very angry indeed.

"I'm sorry, H'minoe. Th' thing is, I don' ackyully know if I kin."

"Doaneuw? Huerkintyeneuw?" Now she sounded frightened.

Severus wasn't prepared for the wave of protective anger that suddenly washed over him. I'll make the idiot ogre pay for hurting my... The girl. Hand. Whatever. He'll pay for what he did to her, too!

"Well, you an' Sev ain't giants, are yeh?"

In the end, McGonagall was the one who dared to interrupt. "Hagrid, do you mean to say you actually understand what, er, Miss Granger is saying?"

Hagrid beamed a stupid-looking smile at the old harridan. "'Course!" he assured her. "It's a bit like Giant-speak, ain't it? Most folk don't know Giants talk English jus' like normal people, only it's hard fer yer ears ter hear it. Jus' like Giant maguses talk their spells in Lat'n!"

Jaw dropping, McGonagall harrumphed and spun round to face Snape. "Oh, for Heaven's sake, Severus! Take off that mitten!"

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

What Handimione and Hagrid Said Was...

"Hagrid! What the ruddy Hell were you thinking?" Handmione knew the gentle half-giant couldn't possibly have meant her any harm, but knowing that didn't quell her annoyance as much as it might have done.

"Well, I weren't thinkin', as such. Not at the moment, like." Hagrid grinned. "Worked it all out before, but I didn't 'spect you'd be the one, H'mione!"

"Now you know, undo it!"

"I dunno," Hagrid said, frowning. "See, I was tryin' ter help Sev'rus, an' I don' know as it would be all that helpful if I were ter do that."

"Severus? What about me?"

"I'm sorry, H'minoe. Th' thing is, I don' ackyully know if I kin."

"Don't know? How can you not know?"

"Well, you an' Sev ain't giants, are yeh?"

~o~ ~o~ ~o~

An hour later, Hagrid and Minerva were chased from the bothy.

Severus were right cross, Hagrid could tell. But little Handmione weren't lettin' him act too rough. She were good for the ill-tempered wizard, aw right.

Minerva hadn't needed to make all those threats she'd made. Handmione had everything in hand.

Bo moolie manoo, fasooey bo homie, and all that.