Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Two days later, Hermione stretched as she closed La jeune américaine, et les contes marins, the 1740 book that was widely credited in the Muggle world as containing the earliest known version of La Belle et la Bête – the one penned by Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve. It was a longer, more detailed story than any of the others she had found, and the story was somewhat different from the others, as well.

It was also unrecognisable as any sort of adaptation of the story Hermione had been told by her friends; it involved good and evil fairies, seduction and manipulation, and selfishness and greed. She wondered where she might find older sources… Perhaps there were older children’s books that referenced it.

And isn’t that ironic – once again trying to find truth in the pages of children’s literature… She let her thoughts drift for just a moment, back to times that now seemed so much simpler, when she had looked in a children’s book to find the key to defeating Voldemort.

Realising that this line of thought would inevitably lead to thoughts of he-who-must-never-be-thought-of-again, she ruthlessly pushed the memories aside and re-focused on the task at hand.

“Accio children’s books about Veelas.”

As the books began flying from the stacks, Hermione caught another glare from Madam Pince. Just as she was about to cast the standard charm for gentle landings, she heard a familiar voice behind her say sharply, “Veelas? Why would you want information about Veelas?”

Startled, she whirled to face him, then remembered herself and whirled back to say, “Finire molliter!” As the books landed on the table, neatly stacking themselves with another wave of her wand, she turned back to Professor Snape. “I’m researching Veelas.”

His face darkened. “You shouldn’t be wasting time on trivial topics. If you’re that bored, go back to work.”

Hermione was irritated by his attitude. “Who says this is trivial? It’s another example of how the wizarding world discriminates against Muggle-borns.”

“No one cares about Veelas.” He paused. “Oh, but I forgot. Your personal little melodrama is driving this ridiculous obsession. You don’t actually want to get over this ridiculous break-up. You just want to figure out the best way to strike back at your former paramour for embarrassing you.”

“For your information, I’m looking for information about male Veelas. Which has nothing whatsoever to do with Ron or Gabrielle.” Hermione was proud of her even tone.

Snape snorted. “I didn’t realise you were so enamoured of self-deception. You don’t care anything about male Veelas – except if you can figure out how to get one of them to help you steal Weasley back from his wife.”

“Why would I even want him back? This is the second time he’s done this to me. Do you honestly think I’m going to give him a third chance?” Hermione snapped. “I just think it’s ridiculous that no one ever talks about male Veelas. Everyone is so focussed on the women that the men get ignored. That’s not fair!”

“Since when is life fair? And what makes you think male Veelas have any interest in being the focus of attention? They want to be left alone, and you digging into this is going to cause nothing but trouble for them. You should put these books away and leave. Stop hiding out here and get on with your life! You can’t put it off forever, you know.”

“Forever?” Hermione couldn’t believe how unfair that was. “It’s been two days! The wedding wasn’t even supposed to be until tomorrow! Anyway, I’m not hiding. I’m trying to learn something useful.”

“It’s not useful; it’s self-indulgent. I had begun to think you were better than that, but I see I was wrong.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Apparently, you’re the same little swot who thinks all the answers are in books that you always were. Grow up, Granger.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he swept out of the room, looking fiercer than she had seen him in her entire adult life.

Hermione stared after him. What had just happened?

He wasn’t at lunch, nor did she see him at dinner. She considered asking Minerva what had him so upset, but it felt strangely as though she would be betraying a confidence. Logically, it made no sense – it wasn’t as if Madam Pince and whoever else had been in the library this morning hadn’t heard them shouting at each other.

She didn’t even know why he had been in the library in the first place. Had he been looking for her? They had been getting along so well for the past few days; she had begun to think a friendship between them might be possible. And now he was angry with her and she had no idea why.

Since she didn’t know what else to do, she continued her research. But she found it difficult to concentrate. She had thought she had begun to earn Professor Snape’s respect. He had begun to seem like – not a friend exactly, not yet – more like a friendly acquaintance, but one with the possibility for a true friendship somewhere down the road. But he had been so angry, so dismissive, that now she could only wonder if he was still merely tolerating her presence because he wasn’t in a position to make her leave.

She gamely continued her research, pushing aside the urge to hide away in her quarters and cry. Did no one like her anymore? She almost felt as alone and lonely as she had when she was eleven, a newly arrived Hogwarts first-year with no sense that she belonged and no idea how to form a friendship.

No, Hermione, you have friends, she assured herself. Ginny and Luna and Harry love you… She forced her attention back to the book lying open on the table. It didn’t say anything new, so her attention drifted again. Why is he so upset about a little research? Why should it even matter to him if I’m wasting my time on trivia or pining away for— She cut off the thought. Back to work, Hermione. That way lies madness – or worse, tears.

Returning her attention to the large piles of books surrounding her, she sighed. If only there were a way to find what she needed without having to dig through everything…

That’s it! she thought, excited to have a plan that might work. Gathering her things, she risked Madam Pince’s displeasure by leaving the books where they were with a hastily scribbled note that she would be back to use them again later.

As she hurried through the corridors, she wondered that this plan hadn’t occurred to her earlier. Was she so upset about— Well, was she so upset that she couldn’t even see the obvious?

When she arrived at her destination, she thought about how to phrase her request, then quickly paced back and forth, repeating, “I need usable information about Veelas.”

When the door appeared, she hurried in to the Room of Requirement. It had thoughtfully provided a comfortable chair and some brightly lit wall sconces, along with a small table complete with tea service. Most importantly, it had provided four books – the newest of which looked positively ancient – eight manuscripts, and two scrolls.

The only question left was: where to start?

A/N: Thanks, as always, to my alpha/beta/Britpick team (see chapter 1 for the long list). Special thanks to Proulxes, who not only Britpicks, but also Latin-picks.