The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Lollies and Loki- Ch48

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT:

As dawn crept closer, Hermione's hopes that Loki would show up that night dwindled and she assumed that rescuing those poor dragons had proven a more exhaustive task then she'd originally expected. 

As Hermione abandoned her peaceful stargazing, instead turning her attention towards practicing using her beautiful new wand, Vashti flew over to a low-hanging branch of one of the nearby trees where she started snoozing quite peacefully. The honey-amber wood of her wand was warm under Hermione's touch, and its magic tingled, like sherbet fizzing on the back of her tongue. It was hers; she knew that, in her heart of hearts, to the deepest depths of her soul. But she also knew it wasn't complete. Not yet. Not quite. 

Still, even incomplete, it was immediately clear to her that her magic was much, much easier with a wand to channel it. But Hermione liked to think she was clever enough to know that easier didn't always mean better; she had no intention of giving up wandless magic just because magic with a wand was easier. She loved a challenge; she was a polyglot for a reason! To practice, she returned to the old exercises that Loki had started her on, when she was learning to control her magic, including her favourite of sitting cross-legged on the grass and changing the colours of flower petals, an old but much-loved exercise for learning and practicing the control and precision of her magic.

Even with as focused as she was on familiarising herself with her wand, Hermione still felt the welcome surprise in the early hours of dawn of the approaching presence of her god even before he actually appeared in the small clearing, proving her earlier assumptions that he wouldn't show wrong. Ever since that day in Henningsvær, when Loki had done whatever it was that he had done to make sure she could never be hidden from him again, she'd noticed that she was much more attuned to her god's presence when he was near her, and as he neared the clearing, she was already turning her head in the direction she could sense him approaching from.

When Loki appeared, barely a blink later, the first thing she noticed was how badly singed his clothes were. She actually let out a gasp, leaping to her feet so quickly that her wand rolled off her lap, dropping to the ground. It let out a series of angry sparks at the rough treatment, and she winced as a nearby patch of metallic-blue wildflowers was set alight, quickly stamping out the flickering flames with her boots and scooping up her wand, whispering a quick apology and stashing it in her pocket, before rushing over to her god.

"What happened? Are you okay? Are the dragons okay? Did you rescue them all? Did one of them set you on fire? Where are they? Are you hurt?" she demanded anxiously, patting down his sides, checking for injuries. He seemed a bit confused by her concern, before looking down at himself and realising why she was worried.

"Oh, this isn't from the dragons," he said, casually waving a hand, which made all the damage disappear and left his clothes pristine. "I had to find somewhere to rehome fifty-one mostly-feral, human-and-goblin-hating dragons where they wouldn't end up attacking any humans and getting hunted down and killed for it, and Múspelheimr turned out to be the best option– it's climate isn't the best for your wardrobe." Hermione blinked, as she processed that, not sure what question to ask first.

"Fifty-one–!? They had fifty-one dragons!? And– wait, Múspelheimr, the Norse Realm of Fire, it's real!?"

"It is," Loki confirmed, before yawning. "And tiring to get to. Honestly, I think I need an actual nap. I don't think I've needed a nap since we visited a thousand years ago." Loki actually looked a bit surprised at himself. "Healing is really not my forte, and yes, there really were fifty-one dragons, from the seven Gringotts branches located across the world. I paid all of them a couple of visits today, and let me tell you– I was not pleased with what I found."