The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Lollies and Loki- CH32

As she stepped out into the olden-styled bathroom, small enough to be considered 'quaint' but consisting of the sort of high-quality materials that betrayed the actual wealth and standards of its owners, she noticed that clothes had appeared for her sometime while she was in the shower. The clothes were of fine quality– a set of thermals, a woollen skirt, a long-sleeved blouse and a fleece-lined jacket– and her exact size, which either meant she'd been unconscious long enough for her new hosts to shop for her, or Loki had snapped them into existence.

She dressed slowly, her movements heavy and dragging, like the air had turned to molasses. The brief glimpse of her reflection as she exited the bathroom revealed how pale, bleak and hollow she looked, reminding her of those long months following her sister's death.

Loki descended upon her the moment she exited the bathroom, his face pinched with badly concealed worry. She went gladly into his arms, into his warmth.

"Time to speak with Dr. Mia?" He coaxed, after a few minutes of her pressed desperately against the warm crackling of his magic under his skin, and Hermione reluctantly nodded.

Usually her sessions with Dr. Mia helped her, but this time, as she sat with the shape-shifter in the home office that had been offered up for their use, she just felt sick to her stomach and terrified and so fucking furious that everything around them had started to rattle ominously. To a certain degree, she could cope with the torture and the memory of fighting for her life, but the betrayal of her friends? That had shattered something inside her, damaged her in a way she hadn't ever thought to protect herself against, hadn't ever even considered she'd need to.

How was she supposed to ever trust anyone she met again, to trust that they were who they said they were, that they were sincere in their attentions or affections, that they meant her no harm? How could she ever believe someone claiming to want to be her friend, after what Hugo and Muriel– Huginn and Muninn– had done?

(Why did it feel like everyone she'd ever loved had hurt her?)

She hadn't even asked Loki if the ravens were dead yet. She was terrified to know, terrified that they weren't– and equally terrified that they were. She'd cared for them, adored them, and despite what they'd done, she couldn't just turn all that emotion off.

After the 'session', which she'd left feeling the weight of Dr. Mia's worried eyes on her back, everything went from bad to worse as a visibly reluctant Loki shared with her the bad news.

"Now that you're awake, I have to go," he told her gently, while still holding her in his arms. "It's the last thing I want to do right now, believe me, kitten, but I have to go and make sure no idiots think Ragnarök has started, and sort out all the morons who've got it into their heads that it's okay to attack my family. You'll be safe here, I promise, nobody can touch you while you're within the boundaries of this property. You'll be safe and you'll have family with you."

Hermione just nodded, unable to speak with the lump that had formed in her throat, and when Loki disappeared after a last, long hug, all she could do was bury her face in her knees and cry once more.

::

Hermione didn't know how long it had been since Loki had left. She didn't know if it had been days or weeks or months, just that he was gone and she was left drifting around a stranger's house as a pale, soundless, grieving shade of herself. Later, she'd be horrified to realise she'd lost track of the passing of time completely, but in her foggy, traumatised state, she just hadn't cared, nor had she possessed the capacity to care. She couldn't bring herself to set foot outside the house, could barely even leave the room she'd been given, and couldn't stop herself from cringing away from Hati, Sköll and Astrid– really, she couldn't stop herself from cringing away from anyone who wasn't Loki, the fear still a horrifying, living thing inside her.