[Art + Fic] Chanukah with the Weasleys

“Really dear. I don’t understand why you are fussing so much. We can just light them with our wands, can’t we.”

Hermione took in a few deep breaths. This was not the first time today Molly had suggested using magic instead of doing things ‘the muggle way.’ Each moment was an argument. No, we cannot just make the latkes beforehand and keep them under a stasis charm, that isn’t how it’s done. No, we cannot just use magic on the brisket to make it cook faster, not unless Molly wanted Hermione’s bubbe to haunt her for years to come. It needed multiple days to be perfect, just like she had been taught. Blasphemy, a ‘quickly cooked’ brisket was for people with no taste.

Now was another argument. Hermione had brought matches to light the Shamash, now those matches were nowhere to be found. This was a small thing, in all honesty, most people used a lighter, but Hermione’s mother hadn’t. Each year, her mother used matches, and when Hermione had gone away to Hogwarts her mother would send her fresh candles and matches the week before Chanukkah so she could celebrate the festival of lights at a school that seemed to only care about Christmas.

Something about lifting her wand felt wrong, and so she continued arguing with the woman she considered a mother.

“Miss Granger, your matches were moved to that shelf.” Turning around, Hermione saw Severus Snape pointing to a small shelf of spices. “Potter and the sixth Weasley were setting the table, no magic as you requested, and moved them somewhere they deemed ‘safe’.”

Stereotypes were harmful and hurtful… however Hermione could not help herself sometimes. When she had mentioned hosting a Hanukkah with the Weasley’s at a post-war Order meeting, she had not been shocked to learn that Professor Snape was also Jewish. The two of them, walking stereotypes; him with his large nose and her with uncontrollable curls.

“Thank you, Professor.” Moving quickly, Hermione snatched up the matches and put them in her jean pocket before they could get lost again. She knew if they did, Molly would try and insist upon using magic.

“I believe we spoke about this, I am no longer your Professor.” He had given her permission to use his given name, but he had yet to use hers, something she wished would change. 

Over the past few days, that had become close as he had been helping her plan. He made the Kugle, and she made the latkes. He brought his Torah and she brought her Menorah. Both of them worked to combine their traditions and present them to the people in their lives.

They had also spent a large amount of time discussing their religious upbringing and how they would explain it to wizards. He, much like her, had been taught by his grandmother. With a reclusive witch for a mother and an abusive alcoholic as a father, he had not had someone to truly raise him. Then, his paternal grandmother had stepped in and tried to compensate for his parent’s failings.

She died five years later, but they had been the best years of his childhood. She, unlike his father, accepted his magic with open arms and saw it as a gift, not a sin.

“Alright, Severus.” She swore a small smile graced his face, but just as soon it seemed to disappear. Still, just the thought that he had grinned at her, something he rarely, if ever, did, was enough to make her heart flutter.

Her eyes wandered around the kitchen and dining room, going through her mental checklist. The broth of Matzo Ball soup was simmering and the mix for the ball was chilling — her only magical concession since the Weasley’s did not own a fridge — ready to drop into the broth at a moment's notice. 

The Challah had been finished this morning by her and Severus. She had made the dough and he surprised her with his braiding.

"Put me to work Granger. You look like you are minutes from combusting”

He wasn’t wrong, she had been running ragged and refused to accept Molly’s help. She knew the second she allowed Molly to touch anything she would take over, and Hermione would not be able to stop her from using magic.

“Do you know how to braid?”

Without another word, Severus grabbed the large bowl of dough and began separating the mass into manageable balls. She hadn’t expected him to know how to braid, but he did not seem put off and concerned about the task she had given him

“I think it might be best to do Shminit instead of a large Challah.” Long fingers worked the dough into a beautiful figure eight, making an individual roll for each person. 

The rolls looked beautiful and were set to the side, still in her sight so none of the Weasley boys could get their hands on them. Applesauce and sour cream were in a serving bowl under a cooling charm. Grated potatoes and onion sat in a strainer lined with a clean cloth as every bit of moisture drained away, ensuring a perfectly crispy latke. Sweet potatoes, carrots, apples, and prunes simmered on the stove in chicken stock and sweet cinnamon to make the Snape family’s Tzimmes. Last but not least, her perfect, beautiful brisket.

Just as her Bubbe had taught her, early in the morning she had rubbed the meat with salt and pepper and placed it in the fridge at her home, then when she arrived at the Weasley’s she began the slow cooking, 7 hours in the oven at low heat, completely undisturbed. ‘Let the meat be, zeeskeit, ’ her grandmother would always say when she was caught trying to peek into the oven.

The smell of tomatoes, carrots, and onions perfumed the small kitchen, bringing those precious memories to the forefront of Hermione’s mind.

“Wine, Miss Granger?” Profess–Severus was leaning against the countertop with a glass of red wine extended to her. She had been very clear with everyone that no one was allowed in the kitchen without her express permission, but it seemed the only person who did not fear her wrath was the stoic man before her.

“You know, I have no choice but to put you to work now, right.” Already, the man’s sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and the faded scar of his Dark Mark. He looked dashing out of black, instead wearing a dark blue button-down, out of his usual frock coat, Hermione could admire the lean muscles that dueling and stirring cauldrons had given him. Now that the war was over, so much about the once dour man had come to life, and with that, much of his darkness had faded away. He was still sarcastic, rude, and dark, but it was not anything like it once was.

“I understand the dangers of invading a Jewish woman’s kitchen. I was hoping to help you, it is much better than being surrounded by Weasleys.” Though that may have sounded rude, there was no bite to his words, just the need for an introvert to escape such a loud and rambunctious crowd.

“Get the brisket out of the oven and check the Tzimmes . I think once that is good I can drop the kneidlach, finish the Latke mix, and then send everyone to the table.” She knew that, much like her mother always did, she would spend the first twenty-thirty minutes in the kitchen after prayer making latkes . Her grandmother would never eat a latke that had been out of the oil for more than five minutes. They were supposed to go from the oil to the plate, with virtually zero downtime. Was this process a pain in the arse, yes. Would it be so much easier if she could use magic, yes. Was Hermione too stubborn to care at the moment... she refused to answer that question.

The two worked in silence, Hermione fussed over her soup while Severus carved the Brisket, being careful not to let the slices tear. Slowly, as the sun began to set, everyone made their way to the table. Harry and Draco, who were ‘only friends’ carried the large pans to the table while Luna carried side and Ginny proudly stunted around with bottles of wine, filling everyone glass far past the socially acceptable height.

“Okay, so before we eat, Severus and I are going to recite two prayers, after which I will tell you all the translation, and then I will sing the Maoz tzur . After that, then we can eat.” She was staring at Ron when she said this. He blushed bright red before lowering the piece of Challah that was halfway to his mouth.

She and Severus looked at each other and walked over to the Chanukiah. Hermione took the matches from her jean pocket and handed them to Severus and then they began their prayer.

“Baruch atah Ado-noi Elo-heinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-sav, Vi-tzee-vanu li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah”

“Blessed are You, the Lord our God, King of the universe, Who sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

“Baruch atah Ado-noi Elo-heinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-seinu, Baya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.”

“Blessed are You, the Lord our God, King of the universe, Who made miracles for our forefathers, in those days at this season.”

Severus lit the Shamash and touched the flame to each of the other candles until the whole Menorah was lit.

Maoz tzur yeshua-si

Lecha na-eh li-sha-beyach

Tikone bais ti-fee-lasi

Vi-sham todah ni-za-beyach.

Li-ase ta-chin mat-beyach

Mee-tzar ham-na-beyach

Az eg-more vi-sheer meez-mor

Chanukas ha-meez-beyach

Az eg-more vi-sheer meez-mor

Chanukas ha-meez-beyach.

[O Rock of my salvation, with delight we praise You. Restore the Temple where we will bring offerings. When You will eliminate our enemies, Then I shall sing at the rededication.]

She hadn’t expected it, but a deep baritone had joined her light voice in song. Something about the way their voices sounded together made Hermione smile and blush uncontrollably like they shared something that no one else could understand. The two shared a smile before the plates began to be passed around.

Severus joined Hermione in the kitchen and the two finished the latkes in record time since they each took a pan to themselves. Still, when they arrived at the table they each only got three of the crispy potatoes. She should have known to make more.

“Moine, you said this was all about some oil, right?” Ronald had been trying hard to be a better friend to Hermione since they ‘broke up,’ though how people break up after one kiss was beyond Hermione’s understanding.

“Yes. That is oversimplified, but yes, the holiday focuses on oil. We celebrate a victory and a miracle that befell the Maccabee people. A jug of oil, that only should have kept a candle lit for one night lasted for eight, giving the Maccabee’s time to find more pure oil to rededicate their Temple.” The story was more nuanced of course, but now was not the time to go into her people's history of struggle and oppression.

“So, someone used a charm to keep the oil going. How is that a miracle?” Ronald, for all his wonderful qualities, struggled to look past his magical upbringing. Magic was the answer to everything, and even when there could be another answer, he would never truly grasp why someone would look farther than the end of their wand.

Looking around the table, it seemed all the Weasleys were on the same page as Ronald. Draco had been raised a pagan, so he also looked confused, but a God was not a new concept to him. Harry had been raised by Catholics who told him that he was the devil, so religion meant nothing to him. However, he was always open to hearing what she had to say, whether he agreed or not didn’t matter. Luna was Buddist, so, like Draco, God and Miracles were in her realm of understanding. 

“Mr. Weasley, who gave you magic?” Severus’ tone was stern but held no bite. Anyone at the table could sense a trap, but it didn’t seem as frightening as it was once was.

“My parents, like everyone else.”

“Like everyone else, you say? And Miss Granger got magic from her parents?” It became clear that Hermione and Severus were once again on the same wavelength.

“Ronald, there very well may have been a Wizard in that temple. No one will ever know since the presence of magic was never recorded. What was written and spoken about was God, granting these people a miracle. Now, who is to say magic isn’t a miracle he gave us? Why must magic override the presence of my God when my God may just be the reason magic exists.”

Silence fell over the table, and so Hermione took it upon herself to continue eating. She knew she would never change anyone's mind, and that had never been her intention, she had only wanted to share this piece of herself with those she considered family.

The meal went quickly and, to Hermione’s delight, it seemed like everyone enjoyed the food she had prepared. Even Molly had no complaints aside from saying she wished she had been in the kitchen to help. Hermione made the small concession of allowing the clean-up to be done by magic, in honesty she was too exhausted to even consider washing up by hand.

Once everything was cleared away Hermione went into the kitchen, planning to save some leftovers for her work week, to find Severus packing away a bit of food for himself.

“Well, I'm happy to see that all this food isn’t going to waste.” Hermione conjured some Tupperware and began piling Tzimmes into it. Once the container was full she shrank it and began the process once more with the brisket.

“I would have been lectured for over an hour if I left empty-handed. Tonight was wonderful, Hermione. Thank you for sharing this with me.” A large calloused hand caressed her cheek and soft lips pressed against her forehead, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Happy Chanukah, sheyna punim. ”

Like that he left, leaving Hermione to wonder where their friendship was heading. All she knew was that he had done two things she had never expected; he had called her ‘Hermione’ and beautiful.