Chapter 7

By lunchtime, Hermione had realised that searching for information about Tobias Snape at the Hogwarts library was an exercise in futility. If she had been thinking more clearly, she’d have realised immediately that information about Muggles would have to be sought in the Muggle world. Perhaps later she would try the Room of Requirement again, though she was rather sceptical about its ability to tap Muggle resources. In the meantime, since the very thought of leaving the sanctuary she had found at Hogwarts sent a feeling of nausea to her stomach, she decided to resume her research on Veelas and stay right where she was for a while longer.

But first, she thought with more pleasure than she might have expected, it’s time to irritate Snape some more.

When she arrived at the Great Hall, Snape wasn’t there. Ignoring a curl of disappointment, she joined Minerva instead. “I’m sorry if I worried you,” she said by way of greeting.

“Worried me?” Minerva chuckled. “My dear, I think I know you well enough by now to understand that burying yourself in research is your preferred cure for disappointments great and small.”

“Oh, but—” Hermione began, but stopped. If Minerva hadn’t been worried, then she hadn’t sent Snape, had she? Which meant he was worried and had used Minerva as an excuse to check on her.

“But?” Minerva prompted.

“Oh, nothing. I had the impression from something someone said that you were concerned I was pining away over Ron.”

“Nonsense,” Minerva said. “The house-elves or the castle itself would have informed me if you were doing any such thing. One of the perks—or burdens, depending—of being Headmistress.”

Hermione smiled. “That just makes me wonder how Harry, Ron, and I got into as much mischief as we did back in the day.”

“I can answer that,” Snape said, taking the chair next to her. “You were the most determined lot of miscreants Hogwarts had ever seen. Neither the house-elves nor the castle could be expected to keep up with the three of you.”

Turning to smile at him, she said, “Really? I rather thought it was because Dumbledore actually wanted us to get away with things—for the greater good, I think he would say.”

Minerva said, “Sad to say, you’re probably right about that. Albus was in many ways a great wizard. But in others…” Her eyes slid to Severus, then away. “Well, let’s just say there was considerable room for improvement in many other ways.”

“Yes, let’s say that,” Severus said, his voice dry as pixie dust.

Deciding a change of topic was in order, Hermione said, “Has the Prophet got over its obsession with my little drama yet?”

“Wellll…” Minerva said, which told Hermione the answer even before Snape confirmed it.

“Of course it hasn’t. And that abrupt change of topic was yet another fine example of Gryffindor lack of subtlety. Though at least you blundered into your own melodrama this time.”

Hermione couldn’t help it: she laughed. “I wasn’t particularly trying to be subtle, Severus. I was, however, trying to change the topic to something more comfortable for you.”

“Your misery? Yes, I suppose you would think that a comfortable topic for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not nearly as upset as I expected, and anyway, I’m one of your favourite people, remember?”

“Oh, Merlin,” Severus said. “I’ll never be rid of you now, will I?”

“Of course not. You don’t really want to be, if you’re honest with yourself.”

He smiled—just a small smile, but a genuine one that skittered over his lips before reaching his eyes.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded in a low tone meant for her ears alone.

As they smiled at one another, Hermione had the odd thought that perhaps he didn’t look exactly like the drawing of the Veela in that ancient scroll, after all. Not when he smiled, at any rate…

After lunch, Hermione returned to the library. Looking at the pile of books, she realised she needed to review what she had in order to determine where the gaps were. She returned the books to their proper places with a Reshelving Charm, then gathered her notes and took them back to her temporary quarters.

Once there, she spread her notes out all over the table so she could see everything as she organised them. She spent the next hour putting them in order, and when she was finished, she sipped some tea as she contemplated what she now knew.

Summoning a Dictaquill, she began organising her thoughts aloud. “So, male Veelas are generally held by strangers and acquaintances to be unattractive and awkward at best. They always have dark hair and eyes, and they sort of repel people… Meanwhile, female Veelas are always blonde with light eyes, and they are generally held by strangers and acquaintances to be… perfect. In either case, if you get to know a Veela to the point of forming a friendship, the perceived perfection or its opposite just… melts away. The Veela is then perceived by the friend as someone of a reasonable, but rather ordinary, degree of attractiveness. Not irresistible, not repulsive, just somewhere in the middle like the rest of us.

“If the friendship deepens into true love, however, the Veela is seen differently to the way both strangers and friends see him or her… Almost like you see them in their best light—like you see the perfection in their imperfection… At least, that’s what the books say, and that seems similar to what Luna and Ginny said… And the legend of Beauty and the Beast had its origins in this reality,” she concluded. “But like most folklore, it evolved and changed over time, eventually bearing little resemblance to the history—the reality—it was meant to preserve. And of course, Muggles don’t even know Veelas exist, so they understood the story as relating to things they were familiar with: curses and seduction and manipulation and love.”

As she finished, Hermione felt the satisfaction she always got when research provided an answer to whatever question she had. It made sense—it fit with what she knew of people and it fit together nicely within its own legend, as well.

Of course, she was long past the days when she would believe something solely because someone had written it down and proclaimed it to be fact, which meant that she had to find a way to test it. But how? It seemed to her that attempting to form a friendship with a Veela solely to test a hypothesis would yield flawed results. Could a true friendship be formed from that sort of non-organic motivation? She discarded the idea of trying to fall in love with a Veela. She wasn’t attracted to women—Veela or otherwise—and she didn’t know any Veela men, with the possible but not-yet-proven exception of Snape. She couldn’t imagine ever falling in love with him. Though perhaps that was simply because they weren’t even friends yet, and if he really was part-Veela, she would be expected to find him unattractive, even repulsive.

Sighing, she put the problem aside to allow it to percolate. She was sure something would occur to her eventually; it always did. Realising that she had just enough time to wash up before dinner, she gathered her notes into a neat stack on the corner of her desk with a wave of her wand.

As she did so, a thought that she found simultaneously satisfying and unbecoming occurred to her: Ron thinks Gabrielle is perfect.

A/N: So sorry for the delay in posting this. Stupid RL! Thanks, as always, to my betas.