The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Sweets and Studies- CH25

A/N: Jul (pronounced Yule) is the old pagan name for Yuletide celebrations and blótgyðiur means sacrificial priestess, which is Hermione's official title

CHAPTER WARNING: animal death (and a little bit of gore related to preparing it for consumption). It's not for sport, it's for religious purposes and they eat it. Also, believe it or not, I've actually been vegetarian for nearly fifteen years now XD If you want to skip it, look for the ///

All my love to you all xx

TWENTY-FIVE:

Vashti practically attacked him when Gabriel appeared back in Hermione's bedroom, carrying her unconscious soul-bonded sister.

"Damn feather duster," he grumbled, having to duck a set of razor-sharp golden talons, aimed straight for his eyes. He shifted Hermione to one arm so he could gesture at Vashti who shrieked indignantly when she found herself suddenly with her feet stuck to her perch. "I just need five minutes then you can fuss over her as much as you want, I promise," he told the furious phoenix. Vashti screeched at him before turning her attention to Hermione and letting out a mournful croon.

Gabriel gently laid Hermione down on the bed, still wrapped in Hel's furs. He pressed a hand against her head and frowned, feeling the chill to her skin. Veles had shredded through her mind, without any thought of care or delicacy, and once again he regretted not ripping the god apart for it.

It took the smallest thread of grace to coax her back into the waking world. Hermione gasped her way into consciousness, her eyelids fluttering open, small chest heaving in startlement. He could see the moment confusion gave way to comprehension, as she took in her surroundings.

"We're back home?" she mumbled.

"We're back home," he confirmed. Hermione frowned at him, blinking away the tiredness clinging to her.

"Why are we back home?" she asked and Gabriel grimaced.

"There was a... development," he said carefully, reaching out as he unstuck Vashti, letting the annoyed phoenix hop onto his forearm, digging her talons in much harder than she needed to and carrying her over to Hermione, who had pushed herself up into a sitting position on her bed.

"A development?" Hermione repeated as she held out her own arm for Vashti, her frown deepening. Gabriel could practically see how her mind was turning over his words, how it was pulling on the memories of the encounter with Veles, reviewing it, searching for meaning. "Veles said– he said that wehave all been curious," Hermione said slowly. "Meaning he's not the only risk to me. Because they think that I'm why you were strong enough to defeat Odin, so... so I'm interesting to them."

"Interesting," Gabriel said very carefully, "might be an understatement."

He carefully did not let the rage he felt at the thought of one of those filthy pagan gods daring to try to lay claim on his priestess show on his face. Hermione was his; she had given herself to him, of free will and without coercion; she was loyal and powerful and devote, and she was his. They didn't get to try and steal her away, like the filthy, needy beggars they were, snatching at scraps as they squandered the dregs of their powers.

"Am I in danger?" Hermione asked softly, looking up at him with wide, sweet eyes.

"I can't tell you no," Gabriel had to say, because she deserved his honesty, "but I don't know. Before Veles, I wasn't aware that there were changes in the rumours going around."

"The rumours that I was your daughter," Hermione said, her cheeks going pink as blood rushed up under her skin.

"After Odin took you, that basically confirmed the rumours," Gabriel explained. He hadn't bothered to deny them after that, not the way he had before, because with Odin and Thor dead being Loki's daughter gave Hermione more protection than it brought her trouble.