8 Jul 2025, 05:59
Healing Takes Time
Date: 3rd July 2025
Location: Windsor, London & Pangbourne, United Kingdom
Word Count: 1707/500
Location: Windsor, London & Pangbourne, United Kingdom
Word Count: 1707/500
It had been the better part of a decade since Jessamine had even dared to entertain the idea of acquiring another pet.
Back in 2018, when her beloved rattlesnake, Snakespeare, died, she had been distraught. She hadn't let her daughter see it—had made breakfast and hurriedly used a kitchen towel to dab at her eyes before flipping a pancake, had aggressively planted lilies over Snakespeare's grave under the guise of wanting a prettier garden. She had even been all smiles and witty jokes around her husband, a coping mechanism that Leander detested but was willing to endure until she broke down one evening. His suggestion had been to adopt another snake, to which Jessamine had simply glared at him in response. She had not spoken to him for the rest of the night.
Leander hadn't mentioned it since. To be fair, in hindsight, Jessamine could recognise that he had genuinely been trying to help. But shortly after she managed to get herself together after Snakespeare's death, one of her close friends from school had died in a work-related accident, and she had been a wreck all over again. Poor Leander had been forced to deal with held-back tears and irritability from Jessamine, who had managed to keep herself together until the evenings at home, when she finally broke down nearly on the daily. All mentions of a new pet, then, were forgotten in favour of working through the negative emotions at a healthy pace.
Then, they were forgotten due to Roscoe's birth, and then even later, due to general business. Two children and two careers were than enough to keep the Carlton-Lancaster family occupied. However, after accepting a teaching post at Hogwarts, Jessamine was faced with the harsh realisation that she would be away from her family for extended periods of time. She tried not to show her worry in front of her children, instead speaking to Leander in hushed, rushed sentences, expressing worry that she might not witness Roscoe's first instance of magic or that Camellia might need her as she aged. The worries kept coming, and then one night, Leander posed the question: 'Have you thought about a pet?'
He was almost met with a sharp glare—almost. Jessamine caught herself and instead hefted a tired sigh, staring at the wall across from her. 'No.'
'I know it's... hard to consider. But it would remind you of us, maybe. Or you'd at least have something to keep you company. It doesn't have to be a snake...'
She nodded. 'I know.'
And that was that, except a few days later, when Camellia and Roscoe were both staying over with some of their friends, Jessamine asked Leander if he would be willing to accompany her to Diagon Alley. Her husband obliged happily, noting that he wanted to pick up some new supplies and inks himself, and they dropped by Flourish and Blotts for stationery before ducking into the Magical Menagerie.
It was a big first step—perhaps too big. Nonetheless, they greeted the shop's owners with warm smiles and kind words, and then Leander began to talk to Ernest and Anita while Jessamine browsed. She gently scratched behind the ears of some of the cats, gazed thoughtfully at some of the owls, even entertained the idea of a half-crup. But nothing felt right. She didn't think she'd ever find herself something that could fill the whole Snakespeare had left behind.
She left, but not before profusely apologising to Ernest and Anita and even purchasing a pet bed despite herself, and after arriving back home in Windsor, she took the floo to visit her parents in Pangbourne.
The Lancasters were always presented with their first snake at the age of eight. Often, the matches were rather poor; many dangerous snakes hardly wished to be tamed, after all. Snakespeare had been an exception to the rule, or perhaps he had simply appreciated Jessamine's less-controlling nature. However, since he had actually remained with her for twenty-five years, she imagined that made his absence all the worse. Her father, now old and white-haired, agreed. He noted that they usually found their snakes through trading and bartering, sometimes illegally, saying that his father and grandfather before him had always thought that the more powerful the snake, the better, without any regard for the snake's wishes.
And then, Tarquin Lancaster said perhaps the most profound thing Jessamine had ever heard from him. He suggested she wait, that she let a snake find her, that even in England there were snakes in the wild.
For once in her life, she listened. Before heading back to Windsor, she took an extensive walk, meandering through the town's streets and finally ending up alongside the river, staring at its glassy, moving surface as she walked. Her pace slowed, and she ended up sitting on a bench, arms crossed over her chest, looking very much like a petulant young adult despite the fact that she was getting dangerously close to forty. She was nearly stewing with annoyance—the one time she actually thought she could stomach having another pet, and still nothing felt right. What was she meant to do when she got back to Hogwarts?
An unfamiliar voice jolted her out of her stupor. 'I haven't seen you here before.'
Jessamine raised an eyebrow and turned, but no one was there.
'Down here.'
She glanced downwards and locked eyes with a snake. Her heartbeat thrummed in her veins as she made sure no one was watching and then leaned closer to the creature. 'Huh. Hello there.' It had been a long time since she had used the language of snakes with anyone but her family, and slipping into its usage felt like putting on a well-loved coat in the dead of winter. A soft smile warmed her features. He was beautiful—not in the same way as Snakespeare, who had maintained a deadly sort of beauty combined with a repelling nature for those unfamiliar to him, but rather, in a way that suggested he was meant for this world, that he took it by storm.
'You have no idea how lonely it gets, not being able to talk to anyone.' The snake slithered closer. 'I've been here for years, just... waiting. It's boring.' He began to wind around her ankle, and she let him. 'What's your name?'
'Jessamine.' She was content to sit back now, finally relaxing, listening to the soft movement of the river even while waiting for the nostalgic hiss of Parseltongue.
The snake continued to crawl up her leg before settling in her lap. 'That's nice. No one ever bothered to give me a name. No one even talks to me, and I know people can.'
Huh—the little guy had an attitude. Jessamine hardly minded, smiling to herself as he head-bunted her hand. He clearly wanted attention, too. 'Well... I suppose you can come with me.'
Her only hesitation upon arriving home with the snake was that perhaps Roscoe or Camellia would have an intense fear of snakes, as was hardly uncommon with children. However, as they weren't home, it wasn't something she had to worry about, and the sight of the emerald, patterned snake made Leander grin broadly. 'I knew it!'
'Oh, hush,' Jessamine mumbled, hugging him, right as the snake said, 'Is he talking about me? You'd tell me if he were talking about me, right?'
'Yes, of course, now shh.'
Leander raised an eyebrow. 'Stop talking about me.'
'Dear Merlin, it's like you're both on the same wavelength.' Jessamine laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks—years, even. She even hummed to herself as she brought old the old terrarium, all while being forced to listen to the snake complain about how he didn't like old things, about how he wanted something new and shiny that befit his glowing personality. She cleaned it out and set it up to make it homey enough, ultimately vowing to at least get him some hot pink curtains if he so desired them.
The snake settled himself on a branch with a small hmph-like noise of feigned discontent. However, he promptly fell asleep, which made both Jessamine and Leander snicker. They went about their evening routine like normal—cleaning, making dinner, talking, and through it all, Jessamine found that smiling no longer felt forced, and laughter came out easily. As they cleaned the dishes after dinner, Leander glanced over to her and asked, 'So, have you named him yet?'
Jessamine shrugged and waved her hand, murmuring a soft Aer Calidus before putting a series of plates in a cupboard. 'Who says he's mine to name?'
'He seemed awfully attached.' Leander handed her a few cups to dry.
'Well... you're not wrong.' She was quiet as she put the now-dry cups away. 'I don't know. I like Asclepius. Reminds me of the Greek god of healing.'
'Because talking to a snake will make you healthier?'
'Something like that.'
The truth was, she at least felt better. She'd learned through difficult days at work that her mental health mattered, too, and having a strangely-sassy snake to snark at her while she was teaching really did make the horror of leaving her family a bit more manageable. He wasn't at all like Snakespeare had been, so his existence didn't remind her of her old snake or the death of her old friend. He was just... someone else who had wanted someone to talk to, who had been willing to fill the space left behind. Willing to help heal a wound Jessamine hadn't realised was there.
The next day, she would introduce Asclepius to her children, and she would hope neither of them felt as if she were pushing familial expectations upon them. She doubted it; Camellia was nine, after all, past the age of a Lancaster's first snake. And Roscoe would likely just be in awe of the creature; he'd always wanted a lizard, and surely a snake was close enough, even if the snake would be going to Hogwarts with Jessamine come September.
For now, however, going to sleep with a smile on her face and a weight lifted from her shoulders was more than enough. The rest of it could take its time.
Back in 2018, when her beloved rattlesnake, Snakespeare, died, she had been distraught. She hadn't let her daughter see it—had made breakfast and hurriedly used a kitchen towel to dab at her eyes before flipping a pancake, had aggressively planted lilies over Snakespeare's grave under the guise of wanting a prettier garden. She had even been all smiles and witty jokes around her husband, a coping mechanism that Leander detested but was willing to endure until she broke down one evening. His suggestion had been to adopt another snake, to which Jessamine had simply glared at him in response. She had not spoken to him for the rest of the night.
Leander hadn't mentioned it since. To be fair, in hindsight, Jessamine could recognise that he had genuinely been trying to help. But shortly after she managed to get herself together after Snakespeare's death, one of her close friends from school had died in a work-related accident, and she had been a wreck all over again. Poor Leander had been forced to deal with held-back tears and irritability from Jessamine, who had managed to keep herself together until the evenings at home, when she finally broke down nearly on the daily. All mentions of a new pet, then, were forgotten in favour of working through the negative emotions at a healthy pace.
Then, they were forgotten due to Roscoe's birth, and then even later, due to general business. Two children and two careers were than enough to keep the Carlton-Lancaster family occupied. However, after accepting a teaching post at Hogwarts, Jessamine was faced with the harsh realisation that she would be away from her family for extended periods of time. She tried not to show her worry in front of her children, instead speaking to Leander in hushed, rushed sentences, expressing worry that she might not witness Roscoe's first instance of magic or that Camellia might need her as she aged. The worries kept coming, and then one night, Leander posed the question: 'Have you thought about a pet?'
He was almost met with a sharp glare—almost. Jessamine caught herself and instead hefted a tired sigh, staring at the wall across from her. 'No.'
'I know it's... hard to consider. But it would remind you of us, maybe. Or you'd at least have something to keep you company. It doesn't have to be a snake...'
She nodded. 'I know.'
And that was that, except a few days later, when Camellia and Roscoe were both staying over with some of their friends, Jessamine asked Leander if he would be willing to accompany her to Diagon Alley. Her husband obliged happily, noting that he wanted to pick up some new supplies and inks himself, and they dropped by Flourish and Blotts for stationery before ducking into the Magical Menagerie.
It was a big first step—perhaps too big. Nonetheless, they greeted the shop's owners with warm smiles and kind words, and then Leander began to talk to Ernest and Anita while Jessamine browsed. She gently scratched behind the ears of some of the cats, gazed thoughtfully at some of the owls, even entertained the idea of a half-crup. But nothing felt right. She didn't think she'd ever find herself something that could fill the whole Snakespeare had left behind.
She left, but not before profusely apologising to Ernest and Anita and even purchasing a pet bed despite herself, and after arriving back home in Windsor, she took the floo to visit her parents in Pangbourne.
The Lancasters were always presented with their first snake at the age of eight. Often, the matches were rather poor; many dangerous snakes hardly wished to be tamed, after all. Snakespeare had been an exception to the rule, or perhaps he had simply appreciated Jessamine's less-controlling nature. However, since he had actually remained with her for twenty-five years, she imagined that made his absence all the worse. Her father, now old and white-haired, agreed. He noted that they usually found their snakes through trading and bartering, sometimes illegally, saying that his father and grandfather before him had always thought that the more powerful the snake, the better, without any regard for the snake's wishes.
And then, Tarquin Lancaster said perhaps the most profound thing Jessamine had ever heard from him. He suggested she wait, that she let a snake find her, that even in England there were snakes in the wild.
For once in her life, she listened. Before heading back to Windsor, she took an extensive walk, meandering through the town's streets and finally ending up alongside the river, staring at its glassy, moving surface as she walked. Her pace slowed, and she ended up sitting on a bench, arms crossed over her chest, looking very much like a petulant young adult despite the fact that she was getting dangerously close to forty. She was nearly stewing with annoyance—the one time she actually thought she could stomach having another pet, and still nothing felt right. What was she meant to do when she got back to Hogwarts?
An unfamiliar voice jolted her out of her stupor. 'I haven't seen you here before.'
Jessamine raised an eyebrow and turned, but no one was there.
'Down here.'
She glanced downwards and locked eyes with a snake. Her heartbeat thrummed in her veins as she made sure no one was watching and then leaned closer to the creature. 'Huh. Hello there.' It had been a long time since she had used the language of snakes with anyone but her family, and slipping into its usage felt like putting on a well-loved coat in the dead of winter. A soft smile warmed her features. He was beautiful—not in the same way as Snakespeare, who had maintained a deadly sort of beauty combined with a repelling nature for those unfamiliar to him, but rather, in a way that suggested he was meant for this world, that he took it by storm.
'You have no idea how lonely it gets, not being able to talk to anyone.' The snake slithered closer. 'I've been here for years, just... waiting. It's boring.' He began to wind around her ankle, and she let him. 'What's your name?'
'Jessamine.' She was content to sit back now, finally relaxing, listening to the soft movement of the river even while waiting for the nostalgic hiss of Parseltongue.
The snake continued to crawl up her leg before settling in her lap. 'That's nice. No one ever bothered to give me a name. No one even talks to me, and I know people can.'
Huh—the little guy had an attitude. Jessamine hardly minded, smiling to herself as he head-bunted her hand. He clearly wanted attention, too. 'Well... I suppose you can come with me.'
Her only hesitation upon arriving home with the snake was that perhaps Roscoe or Camellia would have an intense fear of snakes, as was hardly uncommon with children. However, as they weren't home, it wasn't something she had to worry about, and the sight of the emerald, patterned snake made Leander grin broadly. 'I knew it!'
'Oh, hush,' Jessamine mumbled, hugging him, right as the snake said, 'Is he talking about me? You'd tell me if he were talking about me, right?'
'Yes, of course, now shh.'
Leander raised an eyebrow. 'Stop talking about me.'
'Dear Merlin, it's like you're both on the same wavelength.' Jessamine laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks—years, even. She even hummed to herself as she brought old the old terrarium, all while being forced to listen to the snake complain about how he didn't like old things, about how he wanted something new and shiny that befit his glowing personality. She cleaned it out and set it up to make it homey enough, ultimately vowing to at least get him some hot pink curtains if he so desired them.
The snake settled himself on a branch with a small hmph-like noise of feigned discontent. However, he promptly fell asleep, which made both Jessamine and Leander snicker. They went about their evening routine like normal—cleaning, making dinner, talking, and through it all, Jessamine found that smiling no longer felt forced, and laughter came out easily. As they cleaned the dishes after dinner, Leander glanced over to her and asked, 'So, have you named him yet?'
Jessamine shrugged and waved her hand, murmuring a soft Aer Calidus before putting a series of plates in a cupboard. 'Who says he's mine to name?'
'He seemed awfully attached.' Leander handed her a few cups to dry.
'Well... you're not wrong.' She was quiet as she put the now-dry cups away. 'I don't know. I like Asclepius. Reminds me of the Greek god of healing.'
'Because talking to a snake will make you healthier?'
'Something like that.'
The truth was, she at least felt better. She'd learned through difficult days at work that her mental health mattered, too, and having a strangely-sassy snake to snark at her while she was teaching really did make the horror of leaving her family a bit more manageable. He wasn't at all like Snakespeare had been, so his existence didn't remind her of her old snake or the death of her old friend. He was just... someone else who had wanted someone to talk to, who had been willing to fill the space left behind. Willing to help heal a wound Jessamine hadn't realised was there.
The next day, she would introduce Asclepius to her children, and she would hope neither of them felt as if she were pushing familial expectations upon them. She doubted it; Camellia was nine, after all, past the age of a Lancaster's first snake. And Roscoe would likely just be in awe of the creature; he'd always wanted a lizard, and surely a snake was close enough, even if the snake would be going to Hogwarts with Jessamine come September.
For now, however, going to sleep with a smile on her face and a weight lifted from her shoulders was more than enough. The rest of it could take its time.