[ Is it faith in her that Gilgamesh shows or faith in her powers? In the Brightest Witch or the girl behind it? And, more importantly, does it really matter? He believes in her, in her ability to work through the things that drag her down and make her feel weak, and his reasons for believing her seem to pale in the wake of the fact that he does. People have always had faith in her no matter what happened because of her intelligence, her dedication, her stubborn refusal to be anything but her best, but he had seen her at her worst and still saw her.
Her hands turn, fingers sliding through his again, and she squeezes. It's less about offering him comfort and more about taking it for herself this time, claiming it as her own and demanding that she is allowed to keep it no matter what may be ahead.
Slowly, Hermione's thumbs brush over the sides of his hands before she shakes her head. It's almost hilarious that it would be him that she turns for again, just as when they'd first met, the first time they'd been together, her friendliness as he told secrets, but if she did lose herself to the lioness who else would be capable of stopping her before she really, truly hurt them? ]
I'm not going to forget who I am. You're right.
[ Still afraid, true, she steps back, gives herself a little room and closes her eyes. The transformation doesn't require a spell, thanks to the boon, but it still feels like an animagus, turning and twisting as she reshapes her body, lets herself drop down to four legs and allows herself to breathe in more scents, her ears twitching a little. She's clean, of course, no reminder of the death that came at these hands, and Hermione retains most of her mind.
An animagus loses some of their thought, relies more on instinct, and she knows who she is. It's like allowing herself to fight back against the animal side, she thinks, and she raises her head before she trots forward a few steps.
This time, it's her face in Gilgamesh's hands, not her fingers. ]
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Her hands turn, fingers sliding through his again, and she squeezes. It's less about offering him comfort and more about taking it for herself this time, claiming it as her own and demanding that she is allowed to keep it no matter what may be ahead.
Slowly, Hermione's thumbs brush over the sides of his hands before she shakes her head. It's almost hilarious that it would be him that she turns for again, just as when they'd first met, the first time they'd been together, her friendliness as he told secrets, but if she did lose herself to the lioness who else would be capable of stopping her before she really, truly hurt them? ]
I'm not going to forget who I am. You're right.
[ Still afraid, true, she steps back, gives herself a little room and closes her eyes. The transformation doesn't require a spell, thanks to the boon, but it still feels like an animagus, turning and twisting as she reshapes her body, lets herself drop down to four legs and allows herself to breathe in more scents, her ears twitching a little. She's clean, of course, no reminder of the death that came at these hands, and Hermione retains most of her mind.
An animagus loses some of their thought, relies more on instinct, and she knows who she is. It's like allowing herself to fight back against the animal side, she thinks, and she raises her head before she trots forward a few steps.
This time, it's her face in Gilgamesh's hands, not her fingers. ]