(no subject)

[wingaaardium.livejournal.com]

Who: Hermione Granger, Severus Snape α
What: Accidental meeting, horror?
Where: Apothecary. Shady part of town.
When: Not long after this.
Warnings: None as yet.

Trying to build a life in Baedal is strange, slow, difficult- and admittedly fascinating. Hermione, naturally, isn't one to shrink away from hard work, and has thrown herself into the practicalities with her usual businesslike bluster; a job has been acquired, as has a flat. With the job comes money, and with the flat comes space, and so things have been bought; rather a few books, for instance, despite Hermione trying to avoid bookshops and instead borrowing liberally from the library. She's been budgeting with just as much fervour as she's been buying, and she knows how quickly a bookshop can drain both her willpower and her wallet. Other than that, her purchases have been day to day things, toiletries and stationary and clothes; a thick coat, shoes that will probably outlive her, a huge and none-too-fashionable bag. They all share a practical, long-lasting quality; she's gotten over the initial shock, and now she's building the foundations of a life.

Which has lead to another issue; that of potions. Hermione, as a capable potioneer, is used to brewing her own and depending upon them for all sorts of things. At home, she had a cabinet full of them, many of them for rather specialised purposes, just in case- and here in Baedal, preparing just in case seems even more vital. She's already bought a cauldron and various pieces of equipment- all that remains is to procure ingredients, and perhaps see if there are any ready-made vials of unknown potions available for her to study and use. So that's why she's currently slipping down the streets of a rather shady part of the city, keeping her chin high and trying to look as if she does this everyday and is not at all worried by how distinctly unsavoury the area is. The shop she's going to comes highly recommended; she can't say the same for its address.

So that's how she arrives at the apothecary, looking torn between trying not to attract attention and wanting to appear entirely untouchable- to her credit, she does at least look like a woman with an agenda, but her on-edge manner makes it look as if said agenda is illicit and nerve-wracking. Tightly-wound is, as ever, an understatement.