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[leviohhhhsa]

Who: Hermione Granger, Martha Jones, later Severus Snape
What: Hermione sometimes feels like the only sober person in the world.
Where: The Valhalla Inn, followed by the Snape-Jones Cottage.
When: Following this.
Warnings: TBA. Drunkenness?

Hermione is going to murder Severus Snape.

Except she's not, is she? No, because he was worried about his wife. Because there were monsters dropping from the sky. Because this is a horrible place for anyone to be. Because she probably owes him her life and certainly owes him a cloak. No, she's not going to murder him. She's just going to quietly fume, even though the rational part of her mind is refusing to let her act on it.

If she thinks of this as a favour to Martha, she'll feel much better, she decides. Martha is lovely- and she's ever so tempted, briefly, for a moment or to, to think she deserves so much better...but Snape is a war hero.

And a bully.

But a war hero. Who is devoted to Martha.

Oh, it's not like it's her business anyway, she chides herself grumpily, more because she's thinking herself in circles than out of guilt. She needs her wits around her; monsters still lurk, after all.

She looks distinctly tired, and no wonder. Her hair's tied back in a plait and hasn't been washed in a while. There's a bruise on her cheek she hasn't had the chance to get rid of yet, and a number of them on her arms, not to mention little cuts and scratches she didn't want to waste Dittany on. Her clothes are relatively clean thanks to a few convenient spells but she's neglected to clean off her trainers, which are muddy, dusty and bloody. The oversight was just that- an oversight. She forgot. She is, after all, somewhat understandably frazzled.

She Apparates to a known safehouse in Mog Hill rather than straight to the Valhalla Inn, just in case, and walks the rest of the wall, almost surprised by how tired she is. She smiles at the (equally exhausted, apparently) person at the desk- "New arrival, well, return arrival, just letting her out."

And then she walks. Finds the room with the closed door. "Martha?" she calls, fingers on the handle, before she opens it. "Pro- Sn- Se- your husband couldn't come, so he asked me to come and meet you..."

(And no, for the record, she's really not expecting to find her drunk as well).

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[toldastory]

Martha had arrived drunk; she'd been stolen from a moment when she'd held a bottle of firewhiskey that she'd consumed a large part of. One of the better things that Martha'd asked for aboard the Barge was a bottle that never ran dry, which made it more than a bit impossible to judge exactly how much she'd been partaking over the course of the evening she'd spent with her husband.

The timing could have been far worse and Martha knew it: she could have been naked or wearing something really rather inappropriate. And she could have come back into a world where they monsters that they'd been fighting hadn't been beaten back for the most part.

At least her husband was still alive.

Thinking about her friends had sobered her up, wondering if they'd died, wondering how many people had fallen from things they didn't understand. It had sobered her up to such an extent that she'd forgotten about the wand for a moment. Once she'd gotten word that Hermione was on her way, Martha'd packed up the wand and the whiskey and her communicator and begun pacing.

Pacing was how Martha tended to think, and at the moment she was thinking, and she was worrying. Not only about her friends, but also about the fact that her husband was drunk. She wondered if he'd been drunk the entire time.

Mid-walk when the door opened, Martha turned and looked to take in Hermione. Quickly, she moved over and wrapped her arms around her friend in relief.

[leviohhhhsa]

"Oh-" Hermione jumps, and then, with a sudden rush of relief, wraps her arms around Martha. She'd missed her too, had worried about her- but her mind and hands had been so full the past week. It had been too busy to think- for which Hermione had been almost grateful.

"It's so good to see you," she says, her voice warm and perhaps a little too raw; she's in sore need of a hug, she really is. Still, she's not so taken by the affection as to forget to jam her foot between the door and the door frame. She has no idea if it's magic or mechanics that make them impossible to open from the inside- likely the former- or if closing the door on someone who isn't a new arrival will shut them in- but she'd rather not test it.

"Where on Earth have you been?"

On Earth being a somewhat inappropriate figure of speech.

[toldastory]

Martha was more than a bit in need of a hug herself. Despite her wish for home, returning here and having the eight months of memories slammed into her head isn't a good experience. When one adds the week of monsters in, it can become down-right hellish. So she keeps hugging her friend for a bit longer than necessary, and her hand brushes through the girl's hair for a moment in a gesture that is entirely too motherly for her liking.

The question earned her a sigh, and if it had been apt, Martha probably would be less raw. Less raw and more filled with rage for the disturbance in her life.

"When the angel touched me, it sent me ahead in my personal timeline. I'm not entirely sure why, but I ended up aboard the Barge again. I got to catch up with Sev." Though from the tone in Martha's voice, it's obvious that she is certain that isn't a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.

It's far easier for Martha to focus on other people than herself, and Martha appraised her friend and her expression turned a bit to worry. "You need some sleep."

[leviohhhhsa]

The angel. Oh, God, yes, and then Snape had-

She's going to have to have a Talk with Martha, but not now. Not after everything that's happened- to Martha and to Hermione herself.

"You need to get home," Hermione corrects her. "I'm fine. I'm alive, aren't I? And perfectly intact. It's been a bit, um...frantic."

A bit frantic? Hermione, as ever, is the queen of sheepish understatement. That much is written in the pallor of her face and the bags beneath her eyes.

"I'm glad you missed it," she says with a sudden firmness. "Most of it, at least."

[toldastory]

Martha couldn't argue with Hermione's assessment; she needed to be home. She needed to see her husband and have some time to get her head wrapped around the fact that she'd had eight months of memories jammed inside her head when she returned.

That was something she'd never get used too.

Her eyes widened at the frantic part, and there was half a smile; Martha was good at the understatement bit as well.

"I'm glad I missed most of it as well," Martha admits softly, with a sigh. She's not the sort who would run from a fight but... "A week of it was enough. How much longer did it go on after I...?" Ruddy angel.