“beyond wandpoint” 046 by gingerbred
“11 10i Monday - Class Inaction”
Severus, Hermione, the Baron, Harry, Ron, Call-Me-Terry Taylor
Sunny in absentia.
Originally Published: 2018-01-03 on AO3
Chapter: 046
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Severus is almost satisfied with himself as he makes his way back to the dungeons. His volunteering of the possible meaning of the cornflower, an embarrassment, but a known one, had distracted her nicely from its cultural significance. Although that topic is less probably covered in their Library, he couldn't exclude it with certainty, and this will most likely keep her from seeking out the information.
The witch in question is terribly persistent and exceedingly thorough in her research, traits of hers with which he is only too familiar. Merlin knows he's lamented that fact on more than one occasion. No, it had been a source of regular annoyance. Frightfully thorough.
Excepting, perhaps, the field of Household Charms, he thinks with a wry glance at the books nestled under his arm...
There's no question in his mind, Sunny had provided the flowers, and in many respects, the house elves' folklore corresponds to that of humans from days passed. They've clung to the myths, the old beliefs more tenaciously. Accordingly, there were two aspects Severus wasn't keen to emphasise. The first, that the celibacy could more precisely be understood as 'fidelity' or 'chastity', forsaking all other partners, abstaining in favour of the... courted individual. He's not eager to highlight that at all. Fidelity was assured by their Vows, that's not the issue. The problem, clearly, was the implication of eventual... consummation.
Indeed.
The second, the custom of wearing the cornflower when... courting. Traditionally, cornflowers were worn by young men in love. The cut flower's longevity was taken as an indication of reciprocity. On the other hand, if it faded too quickly, it was seen as a sign that the man's love was not returned. All well and good, except he is not in love, she is not in love, and it beggars the question - why had the elf chosen it?
Beyond a latent fear of being forced to watch the bloom wither before they'd even tucked in, Severus had had his suspicions.
Simply put, he doesn't particularly trust Sunny not to have placed some kind of enchantment on the flower. The elf means well, Severus knows this beyond any doubt, but they don't always agree on what would be in his best interests. He'll need to keep an eye on his little factotum.
Fortunately, Miss Granger isn't a Slytherin by any stretch of the imagination, and she had been easy to distract with his relatively elementary gambit.
And soon after it occurs to him that he shouldn't be all that pleased, as it had been a bit of marked stupidity on his part to Vanish the fool flower in front of her like that had he not wished to draw attention to it. Some Slytherin he is.
Well, he'd been in poor shape at the time.
And apparently it showed.
Slightly less pleased with himself, he continues towards the dungeons. His mood only improves when he encounters the Baron near his classroom, and hails him for a word.
Despite carefully evaluating a variety of messages and purposes, Severus nevertheless completely neglects to consider that the meaning of the arrangement could be as simple as a wish. Not inclined towards wishing much himself, it never occurs to him that Sunny could have been making a wish for them. But even if Severus had thought of it, he still wouldn't have been entirely correct.
Harry and Ron aren't as academically... gifted as Hermione, and are pursuing fewer N.E.W.T.s. Ancient Runes isn't one of the five... well, four now... classes that she still shares with them. As such, she has another hour of relative peace before she has to face them in DADA.
The boys in turn make use of their free hour after lunch by heading to the Quidditch pitch and trying to work off steam. Or rather, Harry drags Ron forcibly down there and tries putting him through his paces. It helps, but only a little.
Ordinarily, Hermione would be seething over the patent squandering of valuable class time that constitutes their practical DADA session. Professor Taylor has them meditating. Again. For two. Whole. Hours. And there is no speaking permitted at all.
Say what you will about his competence and undeniably strange ideas, the man actually has a surprisingly good Monitoring Charm for detecting when someone is whispering.
A number of weeks ago, Harry had come into class all blotchy green and highly irritated. The 'Quibbler' interview was comparatively fresh and still generating a great deal of discussion then, the absolutely erroneous conclusions drawn from the Gwenog Jones 'reveal' (Harry's quite certain he never said any such things) had proven a bridge too far, and Ginny had caught him in the halls and hexed him quite enthusiastically, if not exactly successfully, sometime after lunch on that particular day. Hermione, naturally, had missed the... fun, as Ron put it, rather typically, this time because she was in Ancient Runes. As though that were something to be ashamed of... Harry cast a Muffliato, in an attempt to fill her in on what had happened and to cover Ron's laughter, but Taylor had caught them right off with his Charm because of the Muffliato's buzz.
In a measure favoured by pedagogues far and wide, magical and non-magical alike, the DADA instructor had demanded that Harry share whatever he had to say with the entire class. Not particularly gifted in spinning yarns on the fly either, Harry had simply related the unvarnished truth, although it was thankfully absent of Ron's embellishments and assorted sound effects. Beyond the laugh track he still couldn't seem to stop providing, that is. Taylor himself had found the story so compelling, so genuinely amusing, he took only five points from them each, but as the rest of class was now also laughing, the Professor included, not much meditating was done on that particular day.
Not that that is any way a significant difference to what normally takes place within those four walls.
And so here they now sit, once yet again trying to clear their minds, to become one with the collective... whatever. Hermione hasn't the foggiest, not that the majority of her classmates are faring any better. Over two months of this unadulterated rubbish, and she still doesn't know which collective she's supposed to want to join. She's beginning to seriously question if she's a joiner at all. The course generally fails to improve her mood; it should come as no surprise that it's even less helpful in that regard than usual today.
Normally Hermione thinks Professor Taylor's lessons are a tremendous waste, but in this instance, this singular instance, the silence comes as an enormous relief. She's sure, beyond any reasonable doubt, that that will prove a great source of consolation to her when You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters are mopping the field with them. Oh but look, Mr. Dolohov, at just how well I can meditate and commune with the collective... Quite. The battle will be a rout if Taylor has anything to do with it.
The practicality, or lack thereof, of the lesson notwithstanding, her nerves are thankful for the... breather, nonetheless.
The silence, however, doesn't keep Ron from throwing her looks that have Hermione reaching into her pocket and clenching the miniature phial. Hard. By the time the course is over, her fist has developed a cramp. Harry has the good sense to yank Ron out of there as soon as they're dismissed.
Hermione feigns an interest in breathing techniques and hangs back, ostensibly to ask Professor Taylor some questions, until the boys have left and had time to get well clear. Only then does she venture into the hallway. Which is right about when it occurs to her that she had most of the boys from Friday night in that class as well, and yet she'd been a great deal less comfortable with the presence of her... friends. Deliberate or not, her delaying tactic had opportunely given the Slytherins a head start, too. She's probably not all too eager to encounter them or any of the other Snakes currently making their way down to the dungeons after classes, now that she thinks about it.
It's a little absurd, really. She'd never allowed things like that to determine her movements through the castle in the past, but she's gotten a small taste of what such unguardedness can mean, and finds it difficult to return to her previous... oblivious state.
She leaves the classroom... cautiously, looking about to see if anyone has stayed behind, lurking. The hallway is clear, and she feels somewhat foolish. With renewed confidence she makes her way all the way to and then past the Great Hall before heading off in the direction of the dungeons. But as she grows closer, her nervousness increases again, and she half jumps, startled, when the Baron appears out of nothing to conduct her to a nearby alcove.
"Kindly wait here one moment, Madam," he whispers.
She does.
He frankly doesn't seem like someone one should argue with. Or at least not someone Hermione would care to argue with. And he'd been polite, after all. Manners are important...
He floats off almost before she can nod her agreement, it's practically a given, from her or any other student for that matter. A good portion of staff, too, actually, and not even Peeves dares to dissent. The Baron's gone for a few minutes, long enough for the young woman to wonder what precisely she's doing hiding there, but she really had no desire to tangle with the intimidating spectre.
Roughly when she's beginning to question what remains of her good sense, or if she even possesses any, he returns and bids her to continue. Again he flits off. And again he reappears out of nowhere, this time directing her into another hallway. She does as he asks. The Professor had told her to trust the ghost, and so she will. The Baron repeats the process, reappearing to instruct her to continue her progress towards her chambers. She doesn't get far.
Again he appears to redirect her a third time, now to a nearby little used stairwell. It occurs to him that he could probably march her half the way around the castle as willing as she is proving to follow his directions, but because she does, without question or hesitation, he discovers he hasn't the least desire to steer her wrong. She seems to... trust him. It's... unusual.
She of course has no way of knowing, and in fact has not asked, but he has steered her effectively around the comings and goings of the Slytherin sixth and seventh years. He has also diverted a group of fifth years who now believe Peeves has blocked the passageway she is using. Peeve's reputation will hardly suffer for it. No one particularly likes the poltergeist anyway.
Although she's unaware of it, the Baron had also waited for her outside of the DADA classroom. He's followed her, invisibly, the entire way. Her tactic of waiting until the others had disbursed had been so successful, however, that circumstances hadn't dictated he make his presence known to her any sooner. It wasn't necessary until they had entered the dungeons, where predictably the concentration of Slytherins was highest.
He naturally has no way of knowing that her trust, and it is trust, belongs almost entirely to the Head of House for whom he is performing this service. She extends it to the ghost on the basis of the man's word alone. But ultimately it won't make any difference how it started, and for the moment, it sets both of them on a better path.
Funny how that works.
Severus, Hermione, the Baron, Harry, Ron, Call-Me-Terry Taylor
Sunny in absentia.
Originally Published: 2018-01-03 on AO3
Chapter: 046
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Severus is almost satisfied with himself as he makes his way back to the dungeons. His volunteering of the possible meaning of the cornflower, an embarrassment, but a known one, had distracted her nicely from its cultural significance. Although that topic is less probably covered in their Library, he couldn't exclude it with certainty, and this will most likely keep her from seeking out the information.
The witch in question is terribly persistent and exceedingly thorough in her research, traits of hers with which he is only too familiar. Merlin knows he's lamented that fact on more than one occasion. No, it had been a source of regular annoyance. Frightfully thorough.
Excepting, perhaps, the field of Household Charms, he thinks with a wry glance at the books nestled under his arm...
There's no question in his mind, Sunny had provided the flowers, and in many respects, the house elves' folklore corresponds to that of humans from days passed. They've clung to the myths, the old beliefs more tenaciously. Accordingly, there were two aspects Severus wasn't keen to emphasise. The first, that the celibacy could more precisely be understood as 'fidelity' or 'chastity', forsaking all other partners, abstaining in favour of the... courted individual. He's not eager to highlight that at all. Fidelity was assured by their Vows, that's not the issue. The problem, clearly, was the implication of eventual... consummation.
Indeed.
The second, the custom of wearing the cornflower when... courting. Traditionally, cornflowers were worn by young men in love. The cut flower's longevity was taken as an indication of reciprocity. On the other hand, if it faded too quickly, it was seen as a sign that the man's love was not returned. All well and good, except he is not in love, she is not in love, and it beggars the question - why had the elf chosen it?
Beyond a latent fear of being forced to watch the bloom wither before they'd even tucked in, Severus had had his suspicions.
Simply put, he doesn't particularly trust Sunny not to have placed some kind of enchantment on the flower. The elf means well, Severus knows this beyond any doubt, but they don't always agree on what would be in his best interests. He'll need to keep an eye on his little factotum.
Fortunately, Miss Granger isn't a Slytherin by any stretch of the imagination, and she had been easy to distract with his relatively elementary gambit.
And soon after it occurs to him that he shouldn't be all that pleased, as it had been a bit of marked stupidity on his part to Vanish the fool flower in front of her like that had he not wished to draw attention to it. Some Slytherin he is.
Well, he'd been in poor shape at the time.
And apparently it showed.
Slightly less pleased with himself, he continues towards the dungeons. His mood only improves when he encounters the Baron near his classroom, and hails him for a word.
Despite carefully evaluating a variety of messages and purposes, Severus nevertheless completely neglects to consider that the meaning of the arrangement could be as simple as a wish. Not inclined towards wishing much himself, it never occurs to him that Sunny could have been making a wish for them. But even if Severus had thought of it, he still wouldn't have been entirely correct.
Harry and Ron aren't as academically... gifted as Hermione, and are pursuing fewer N.E.W.T.s. Ancient Runes isn't one of the five... well, four now... classes that she still shares with them. As such, she has another hour of relative peace before she has to face them in DADA.
The boys in turn make use of their free hour after lunch by heading to the Quidditch pitch and trying to work off steam. Or rather, Harry drags Ron forcibly down there and tries putting him through his paces. It helps, but only a little.
Ordinarily, Hermione would be seething over the patent squandering of valuable class time that constitutes their practical DADA session. Professor Taylor has them meditating. Again. For two. Whole. Hours. And there is no speaking permitted at all.
Say what you will about his competence and undeniably strange ideas, the man actually has a surprisingly good Monitoring Charm for detecting when someone is whispering.
A number of weeks ago, Harry had come into class all blotchy green and highly irritated. The 'Quibbler' interview was comparatively fresh and still generating a great deal of discussion then, the absolutely erroneous conclusions drawn from the Gwenog Jones 'reveal' (Harry's quite certain he never said any such things) had proven a bridge too far, and Ginny had caught him in the halls and hexed him quite enthusiastically, if not exactly successfully, sometime after lunch on that particular day. Hermione, naturally, had missed the... fun, as Ron put it, rather typically, this time because she was in Ancient Runes. As though that were something to be ashamed of... Harry cast a Muffliato, in an attempt to fill her in on what had happened and to cover Ron's laughter, but Taylor had caught them right off with his Charm because of the Muffliato's buzz.
In a measure favoured by pedagogues far and wide, magical and non-magical alike, the DADA instructor had demanded that Harry share whatever he had to say with the entire class. Not particularly gifted in spinning yarns on the fly either, Harry had simply related the unvarnished truth, although it was thankfully absent of Ron's embellishments and assorted sound effects. Beyond the laugh track he still couldn't seem to stop providing, that is. Taylor himself had found the story so compelling, so genuinely amusing, he took only five points from them each, but as the rest of class was now also laughing, the Professor included, not much meditating was done on that particular day.
Not that that is any way a significant difference to what normally takes place within those four walls.
And so here they now sit, once yet again trying to clear their minds, to become one with the collective... whatever. Hermione hasn't the foggiest, not that the majority of her classmates are faring any better. Over two months of this unadulterated rubbish, and she still doesn't know which collective she's supposed to want to join. She's beginning to seriously question if she's a joiner at all. The course generally fails to improve her mood; it should come as no surprise that it's even less helpful in that regard than usual today.
Normally Hermione thinks Professor Taylor's lessons are a tremendous waste, but in this instance, this singular instance, the silence comes as an enormous relief. She's sure, beyond any reasonable doubt, that that will prove a great source of consolation to her when You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters are mopping the field with them. Oh but look, Mr. Dolohov, at just how well I can meditate and commune with the collective... Quite. The battle will be a rout if Taylor has anything to do with it.
The practicality, or lack thereof, of the lesson notwithstanding, her nerves are thankful for the... breather, nonetheless.
The silence, however, doesn't keep Ron from throwing her looks that have Hermione reaching into her pocket and clenching the miniature phial. Hard. By the time the course is over, her fist has developed a cramp. Harry has the good sense to yank Ron out of there as soon as they're dismissed.
Hermione feigns an interest in breathing techniques and hangs back, ostensibly to ask Professor Taylor some questions, until the boys have left and had time to get well clear. Only then does she venture into the hallway. Which is right about when it occurs to her that she had most of the boys from Friday night in that class as well, and yet she'd been a great deal less comfortable with the presence of her... friends. Deliberate or not, her delaying tactic had opportunely given the Slytherins a head start, too. She's probably not all too eager to encounter them or any of the other Snakes currently making their way down to the dungeons after classes, now that she thinks about it.
It's a little absurd, really. She'd never allowed things like that to determine her movements through the castle in the past, but she's gotten a small taste of what such unguardedness can mean, and finds it difficult to return to her previous... oblivious state.
She leaves the classroom... cautiously, looking about to see if anyone has stayed behind, lurking. The hallway is clear, and she feels somewhat foolish. With renewed confidence she makes her way all the way to and then past the Great Hall before heading off in the direction of the dungeons. But as she grows closer, her nervousness increases again, and she half jumps, startled, when the Baron appears out of nothing to conduct her to a nearby alcove.
"Kindly wait here one moment, Madam," he whispers.
She does.
He frankly doesn't seem like someone one should argue with. Or at least not someone Hermione would care to argue with. And he'd been polite, after all. Manners are important...
He floats off almost before she can nod her agreement, it's practically a given, from her or any other student for that matter. A good portion of staff, too, actually, and not even Peeves dares to dissent. The Baron's gone for a few minutes, long enough for the young woman to wonder what precisely she's doing hiding there, but she really had no desire to tangle with the intimidating spectre.
Roughly when she's beginning to question what remains of her good sense, or if she even possesses any, he returns and bids her to continue. Again he flits off. And again he reappears out of nowhere, this time directing her into another hallway. She does as he asks. The Professor had told her to trust the ghost, and so she will. The Baron repeats the process, reappearing to instruct her to continue her progress towards her chambers. She doesn't get far.
Again he appears to redirect her a third time, now to a nearby little used stairwell. It occurs to him that he could probably march her half the way around the castle as willing as she is proving to follow his directions, but because she does, without question or hesitation, he discovers he hasn't the least desire to steer her wrong. She seems to... trust him. It's... unusual.
She of course has no way of knowing, and in fact has not asked, but he has steered her effectively around the comings and goings of the Slytherin sixth and seventh years. He has also diverted a group of fifth years who now believe Peeves has blocked the passageway she is using. Peeve's reputation will hardly suffer for it. No one particularly likes the poltergeist anyway.
Although she's unaware of it, the Baron had also waited for her outside of the DADA classroom. He's followed her, invisibly, the entire way. Her tactic of waiting until the others had disbursed had been so successful, however, that circumstances hadn't dictated he make his presence known to her any sooner. It wasn't necessary until they had entered the dungeons, where predictably the concentration of Slytherins was highest.
He naturally has no way of knowing that her trust, and it is trust, belongs almost entirely to the Head of House for whom he is performing this service. She extends it to the ghost on the basis of the man's word alone. But ultimately it won't make any difference how it started, and for the moment, it sets both of them on a better path.
Funny how that works.