When she hid herself on that boat that took her halfway around the world, to a different land where witches were not hunted and burned on a pyre, Hermione did not envision she would end up in this circumstance, in particular.
She's not exactly a prisoner of the Coven, though she has been claimed by its de facto prince, just so the other vampires know to stop drooling over her at every ball, and it rakes. Oh, it rankles. Imagine this - she traded faking a painful death on a pyre that could never kill her, traded being forced to start fresh every time the village elder or some nobleman decided he wanted under her skirts and cried witch when she rejected them (and gave them boils), and her reward for it? She is not left alone, not truly, until another man claims her so that the men of his coven don't try to do it daily.
Nevermind that she could burn them all herself. Nevermind that she is a force to be reckoned with. This is the price to pay for being a woman and a witch in this day and age, in Avalon or across the seas.
Still, the situation at hand?
"Stop sniffing my potions," she snaps at Ethan, slamming the door to her laboratory shut behind her. This is the seventh time she's found him on her territory, and she is feeling hissy. "Unless you want that one to make your cock fall off."
He knows it drives her crazy, and most days, Ethan stays well out of her way without managing to make it look like he's avoiding her, or that he's relinquished his 'claim'.
The word makes him balk, but he knows if he hadn't, she'd have more problems than she does currently.
"Sorry!" He jumps back, looking exceptionally guilty, and folds his arms to keep his hands to himself. "I was looking for you. There's a...gathering tonight, that we have to go to."
She wants to say something clever like of course you were looking for me, which explains your intrusion, but the idea of the gathering makes her balk a little.
"Is there now? And why is it that we have to go?" she mutters, unsure.
"Last time I wore trousers to one of these events, someone made a comment about biting my ass," she mutters, unimpressed with the memory. Or having to remember. She gives Ethan a questioning glance - vampires are territorial, she realises; the fact that he's claimed her goes beyond some handwaved statement, it's not just for show. If someone were to actually try to make a pass at Hermione, she knows there would be a fight just because of that claim, and not coming from her.
It's a pain in the ass, though. Vampires posturing, vampires doing their version of a dick-measuring contest.
"I'd rather avoid it." She pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs. "Alright. How long will I have to prepare? Because I have some potions that need bottling up now, or they'll burn and be ruined."
A dark look briefly crosses his features, because yes, he would absolutely rip someone apart if they touched her, but as his eyes drop to said ass, he's a little distracted.
"A few hours. It's not until later this evening. Do you need any help?" He isn't good at any of this, but he can help her bottle.
She sighs, and nods. "You can help." She won't ask him to stir potions, but the most annoying part is funelling them into the tiny bottles, so with his help it will go faster.
Maybe it will give her a chance to just read for pleasure before having to prepare herself for the ball.
"It's a blood restoration potion," she explains as she sets out empty bottles. "For the willing who offer up themselves as a meal. Your king mentioned that some of the younger vampires still sometimes lose control, and I would hate to think that this should be used as an excuse for the accidental killing of helpful people. Plus, it takes only a few accidental killings for the volunteers to stop coming and then you'll be back in the Dark Ages, lurking and attacking."
She didn't exactly expect him to notice, which is unfair of her, she knows. Ethan is observant - a lot of the vampires are - but in a non-threatening way, as far as her own safety goes.
She sighs, and looks at him. "I'm not unhappy, just...frustrated." She hands him bottles and the funnel and starts to laddle the potion in while he holds. "It's all very stiffling for mortals here. All of the rules, the etiquette, and the snide comments about how weak mortals are in comparison to vampires. I'll have them know I've survived being burned on a stake four times so far."
Another sigh, "Then again this is the first place I've been able to practice magic openly, instead of in secret."
"I don't think you're weak," he offers. "Mortal, sure, but you could probably burn the whole place to the ground with us in it, so." He'd rather not piss her off.
That at least gets a smirk out of her, and she stands up a bit taller. Yes, fear her, she is mighty.
"It was, yes. It's why I left - every new city, every new place, they were scared of magic but even more scared of a woman wielding any kind of power. It got to a point where witchcraft trials were just...so tiring."
"I won't disagree," she quips, and with a sigh she closes the subject and focuses on bottling the potions up. She labels them, and stores them, and with his help the process is brought down to just half an hour.
"Right, I suppose I'll get ready for your party now."
He's helpful when he wants to be. He's trying to at least make her life less...annoying.
"Yeah, sorry. I'll get out of your hair." Let her do whatever she needs to do. Hell, he'd been so intently making sure he didn't mess up her stuff he'd nearly forgotten why he came down here in the first place.
She hesitates at that - she doesn't plan to be this acerbic, really. It's a force of habit, it is a self-defense mechanism, and truth be told, Ethan is not exactly the worst vampire to be claimed by. If anything, she has a feeling he might be the nicest one she's met?
Which sets him at an advantage against all men in general, because he happens to be the nicest man she's met, too.
"You can stay," she says, then hesitates, looking around the lab. "Just...please don't touch anything. I won't mind if you - you can stay here while I get ready." Her bedroom and clothes are behind a closed door, after all, nothing to it. "Do you want some tea? Or - oh - would you need to feed before the ball, to feel in control?"
"No, no I'm good. I'm not hungry." Or...thirsty, whatever the proper word may be in this case.
"I won't touch anything." He'll behave himself. Mostly. He's a little afraid of all this witchy stuff, really - he's scared he might end up a frog if he messes with her stuff, so he'll keep his hands to himself.
She doesn't take long, aware of the time and aware of the pressure to be punctual for these things. For immortal creatures, vampires can be so pedantic about timeliness, and Hermione isn't here to make enemies.
As she dresses, she takes care that her hair is braided and her hands are clean, and dons her fanciest dress, the one she does not wear to work at all, and finally, exits her bedchambers back into the room she left him in.
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i lied yet again: a starter
She's not exactly a prisoner of the Coven, though she has been claimed by its de facto prince, just so the other vampires know to stop drooling over her at every ball, and it rakes. Oh, it rankles. Imagine this - she traded faking a painful death on a pyre that could never kill her, traded being forced to start fresh every time the village elder or some nobleman decided he wanted under her skirts and cried witch when she rejected them (and gave them boils), and her reward for it? She is not left alone, not truly, until another man claims her so that the men of his coven don't try to do it daily.
Nevermind that she could burn them all herself. Nevermind that she is a force to be reckoned with. This is the price to pay for being a woman and a witch in this day and age, in Avalon or across the seas.
Still, the situation at hand?
"Stop sniffing my potions," she snaps at Ethan, slamming the door to her laboratory shut behind her. This is the seventh time she's found him on her territory, and she is feeling hissy. "Unless you want that one to make your cock fall off."
i enjoy your lies
The word makes him balk, but he knows if he hadn't, she'd have more problems than she does currently.
"Sorry!" He jumps back, looking exceptionally guilty, and folds his arms to keep his hands to himself. "I was looking for you. There's a...gathering tonight, that we have to go to."
good you should be
"Is there now? And why is it that we have to go?" she mutters, unsure.
no subject
So.
"You'll need a dress," he says. "Unless you prefer trousers? That's up to you, I guess."
no subject
It's a pain in the ass, though. Vampires posturing, vampires doing their version of a dick-measuring contest.
"I'd rather avoid it." She pinches the bridge of her nose, and sighs. "Alright. How long will I have to prepare? Because I have some potions that need bottling up now, or they'll burn and be ruined."
no subject
"A few hours. It's not until later this evening. Do you need any help?" He isn't good at any of this, but he can help her bottle.
If she lets him, of course.
no subject
Maybe it will give her a chance to just read for pleasure before having to prepare herself for the ball.
"It's a blood restoration potion," she explains as she sets out empty bottles. "For the willing who offer up themselves as a meal. Your king mentioned that some of the younger vampires still sometimes lose control, and I would hate to think that this should be used as an excuse for the accidental killing of helpful people. Plus, it takes only a few accidental killings for the volunteers to stop coming and then you'll be back in the Dark Ages, lurking and attacking."
no subject
And God he doesn't want to be hiding in the damn shadows, it's just...awful.
"I know you're unhappy," finally, as he helps her. "Is there anything I can do?"
no subject
She sighs, and looks at him. "I'm not unhappy, just...frustrated." She hands him bottles and the funnel and starts to laddle the potion in while he holds. "It's all very stiffling for mortals here. All of the rules, the etiquette, and the snide comments about how weak mortals are in comparison to vampires. I'll have them know I've survived being burned on a stake four times so far."
Another sigh, "Then again this is the first place I've been able to practice magic openly, instead of in secret."
no subject
"Is it really like that, where you're from?"
no subject
"It was, yes. It's why I left - every new city, every new place, they were scared of magic but even more scared of a woman wielding any kind of power. It got to a point where witchcraft trials were just...so tiring."
no subject
"That's ridiculous." Honestly, so ridiculous. It isn't like that, here.
Of course, she has to deal with sexism in a different way, but here no one is threatening to burn her.
no subject
"Right, I suppose I'll get ready for your party now."
no subject
"Yeah, sorry. I'll get out of your hair." Let her do whatever she needs to do. Hell, he'd been so intently making sure he didn't mess up her stuff he'd nearly forgotten why he came down here in the first place.
no subject
Which sets him at an advantage against all men in general, because he happens to be the nicest man she's met, too.
"You can stay," she says, then hesitates, looking around the lab. "Just...please don't touch anything. I won't mind if you - you can stay here while I get ready." Her bedroom and clothes are behind a closed door, after all, nothing to it. "Do you want some tea? Or - oh - would you need to feed before the ball, to feel in control?"
no subject
"I won't touch anything." He'll behave himself. Mostly. He's a little afraid of all this witchy stuff, really - he's scared he might end up a frog if he messes with her stuff, so he'll keep his hands to himself.
no subject
As she dresses, she takes care that her hair is braided and her hands are clean, and dons her fanciest dress, the one she does not wear to work at all, and finally, exits her bedchambers back into the room she left him in.
"I suppose we can get this over with."