“beyond wandpoint” 033 by gingerbred
“11 09n Sunday - Storm Front Minerva”
Severus and Hermione, Minerva, Albus, Poppy
Originally Published: 2017-12-06 on AO3
Chapter: 033
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
"No worries, Sir. We protected your modesty," she reassures him in a way that now has him worried about a bunch of things that hadn't even occurred to him yet.
There's a knock at the door. As interruption is doubtlessly preferable to responding to the witch next to him, and the incriminating remains of their meals are Vanished, Severus calls out, "Come."
Albus, it would seem, just can't pop by often enough today.
"Albus, to what do we owe the pleasure?" His tone suggests it's anything but, and yet it sounds a great deal more polite than the 'what do you want from us now' that he's actually thinking. It makes no difference as the older man knows that, and him, all too well. Amusingly, what Severus can sense from Miss Granger through their bond seems no more welcoming. They would appear to be of the same opinion.
"Severus," Albus sounds downright cheery, "you're looking much improved." He wisely doesn't suggest that marriage seems to agree with the man. But then, he's also reasonably confident it doesn't.
"Poppy hopes to release me tonight."
"I imagine she does. And you're quite certain you'll be fit for classes tomorrow?"
"I intend to be, one way or another."
"Good, very good. I'm glad to hear it." There's a odd lapse in the conversation that Hermione doesn't understand. It feels like something else is going on that she doesn't quite comprehend, and she finds it confusing. The Potions Master seems to have no trouble letting the silence stretch, but it's making her uncomfortable.
The Headmaster likewise seems unfazed, but the longer it goes on, the more she begins to fidget. Which is silly, really. She's used this ploy with Harry and Ron often enough.
In the ensuing pause, she thinks again about the Professor's suggestion that she tell the next person who entered about their shared dessert. Or not. She's not entirely positive the Professor wanted her to attempt it, it was rather unclear... But as she fails to see any reason telling the Headmaster should present a problem, Merlin knows, he's fond enough of sweets, she determines to give it a try. If only to break the silence...
Facing the Headmaster and gesturing between herself and the man on the bed beside her she says, "We sh..." She tries again, "We spl..." With a broad grin, she turns to Professor Snape, "It works, Sir."
He just raises an eyebrow and looks at her in frank disbelief. On consideration, she's now not at all sure he really meant for her to test the Vow, and she's becoming increasingly less sure of her attempt the longer he's silent. "I... I thought you wanted me to check it?" She offers weakly.
"Yes. I can see how 'tell no one' left room for interpretation. It's patently obvious how that could be misconstrued..." he intones and she sinks lower into her chair.
Even more meekly she answers, "At least now we know it works, Sir."
"I'm not sure that it does quite as you believe, particularly if you were uncertain as to my feelings on the matter."
"I don't quite follow," Albus interjects.
Severus turns to him calmly and prevaricates, "She's trying to tell you I have a sweet tooth."
"Oh, well that's well established. Staff are well aware," the bearded man assures the young woman, nodding placidly, as though that were a matter of any importance and not completely beside the point.
And then he continues to address her in what Severus is sure was the reason for this visit, "If you have a moment, there were a few developments I wished to inform you of."
Severus doesn't even bother becoming offended that he apparently isn't to be informed. For one thing, he's fairly certain the little witch will update him anyway, whether either of them want her to or not, and for another, it feels like a... ruse. A bit of hand waving to distract from something else altogether. It's of no matter, it will come as it must.
She looks at him to see if he has any objections, which is... he's lacking an adjective and settles on 'odd'. 'Unexpected' works as well; 'considerate' is probably more accurate, although he fails to recognise that. He merely shrugs his agreement, or indifference, whichever, and she follows Albus from the room. It takes Severus a bit of effort not to stare at that top she's wearing now that she's shed the concealment of the blanket. Merlin's hairy...
The Headmaster leads Hermione into Madam Pomfrey's office, where the Matron is busy making notes on a parchment. "Albus? Do you need something?"
"If you wouldn't mind, Poppy, might we borrow your office for a few minutes?" Poppy thinks it's a strange request. The Infirmary is empty, and they could speak undisturbed there. If there were need for further privacy, a Charm would provide. But Albus is her boss, and if he needs the room, she sees no reason to argue.
With a "Certainly. The room's yours," she rises, deciding to look in on Severus instead.
Now that he's conscious, she imagines he would appreciate more privacy in his treatments anyway. Naturally, he'd have appreciated it while unconscious as well, just not as... actively. Poppy subscribes wholly to the 'what they don't know won't hurt them' school of medicine. Masters' level.
Regardless, she'd like to examine his wounds before he scarpers. Getting in at least another application of Dittany before he leaves will go a long way to reducing his scaring, poor lamb. She gathers her kit and proceeds to his room.
"What on earth have you done to your gown?" Can just be heard before she closes his door behind her to begin applying the remedy.
They take their seats at the Mediwitch's desk, and the Headmaster begins to tell Hermione that the Heads of Houses have been informed about the bonding. There have been two others this weekend as well, she believes he's telling her, but right now she's preoccupied trying hard not to picture Professor McGonagall's reaction. It can't have been pretty.
Apparently the other teachers will be informed tomorrow, and then Professor Dumbledore will pull Harry and Ron aside and brief them. He most likely is talking about announcing it to the school sometime after, it's all a little fuzzy, because if the notion of Professor McGonagall's reaction was distracting, certainly the thoughts of her friends' responses are more so. No, she's having a lot of difficulty following any of it.
Tomorrow won't be pleasant, she realises with a start.
"Severus, how could you?!"
The the force of the door slamming open, the shriek, there's no mistaking Minerva's outrage. Realistically, it was to be expected, but that doesn't diminish his disappointment. She's known him for over twenty-six years. More than sixteen of those they have been colleagues. He had even thought they were more than just coworkers these days. Possibly... friends. They've both worked hand in hand as members of the Order for years. He had hoped some or any of that would count for something. He should have known better.
Minerva, for her part, is forced to acknowledge there can be a number of perfectly good reasons for closed doors, particularly in an Infirmary. One of them sits before her. Severus, unusually pale, is seated on the bed, naked, at least what she can see of him, from the waist up, and Poppy is currently daubing a tincture of some kind on his wounds, of which there are many. Very many.
The Matron turns on her with "Minerva! This is highly irregular!"
The problem with wanting to flay Severus, Minerva discovers when she finally catches up to him, is that the man looks like he's already been flayed. Within a fraction of an inch of his life. Repeatedly. He looks like he fell in a Muggle threshing machine and improbably survived it. He's covered in a network of scars she can't imagine anyone receiving and certainly not surviving. Any desire on her part to cause physical harm evaporates at the sight of all the damage he's clearly withstood.
She finds herself revising everything she thought she knew about his role in the war. Oddly, when he missed classes, more frequently of late, she never thought to question how much abuse it would take to make him do so. She should have known better. In all the years prior to You-Know-Who's return, he'd never missed a one, not even after being bitten by a Cerberus.
He summons a dignity Minerva also can't conceive of anyone possessing and as though she hadn't just grievously violated his privacy, and discovered things she never should have known, he turns to Poppy and politely asks the Matron to give them some privacy. Privacy, that thing Minerva's just robbed him of. She feels terribly wrong-footed already; she'll simply compensate by doubling down on the invectives and accusations. This cannot stand.
"Thank you, Poppy," he adds as the Mediwitch turns to leave. "We can finish this later."
"Please see that we do, Severus. They still need to be tended." For all the softness in her tone as she addresses him, the glare she gives Minerva on her way out could curdle blood.
The Transfigurations Professor's bloodlust may be slaked, but she's still spitting nails, and this situation with her favourite student is untenable. She intends to give him a mouthful. "How could you?!" she repeats.
He's still incredibly calm. He's probably used to being accosted like this. "Minerva, tell me please, what was my offence here?" He asks as he quietly pulls his black gown back on. A wave of his hand seems to Vanish buttons she can't account for down its front.
"What have I done wrong, beyond letting the old fool corral me into a lifetime of celibacy and to sacrifice the little privacy I still had in an environment such as this? Or would you care to extend a similar level of protection and be bonded to Mr. Potter?" She looks absolutely mortified at the suggestion.
"Quite. Appealing proposition, isn't it? If you have issues with it, kindly take them up with Albus. This... obscenity was not of my doing. Neither the situation that gave rise to the need of it, nor this... solution in answer to it. The universal... disapproval will just make it that much more... pleasurable."
He's sneering now, as disdainfully as he can from his sickbed. The effect isn't nearly as convincing as when he's swooping about in his own robes at full height, but he does a passable job, the sincerity of his aggrievement lending it an added degree of conviction.
In the Matron's office, Hermione feels the searing hurt across the bond, the disappointment, humiliation and feeling of... betrayal. Professor Dumbledore was mid-sentence, she thinks, after the fact, but at the moment her focus is entirely elsewhere, and she shoots from her seat and runs to Professor Snape's room, only to hear her Transfigurations Professor lace into him. Albus doesn't even bother trying to hide his smile as she darts off.
The Professor's lying there, half dead because of her. He nearly died saving her. Professor Dumbledore has sentenced him to a life bonded to her, and this is how he's thanked for it?
"She's only a girl! She's your student!" Professor McGonagall sounds livid.
And at that Miss Granger rushes into his room, pushing past the indignant older witch and putting herself in a decidedly protective stance before him. She's such a petite thing, the sight almost makes him smirk at its absurdity. She rounds on the taller woman, metaphorically swinging, drawing herself up to subconsciously match Minerva as best she can in stature and attitude.
"Not his student. Not any more. I'm no longer in his classes. And hardly a girl. I've been of age for more than a year. Over the age of consent for more than two. Or even far longer, as the Ministry would have it, considering someone gave me a Time Turner to use. In third year, no less.
"Technically, I believe one is supposed to be older to use a Time Turner than even required for marriage by Ministry law. I assume you are aware of those restrictions. Did I have maturity then that I somehow lack at present?"
He's not entirely sure what she's referring to, but there's no mistaking her pointed tone or looks, even without the bond telegraphing her feelings, and that accusatory inflection seems to resonate with his colleague somehow. Minerva actually looks a little abashed. Interesting. Perhaps he'll be able to pursue that later.
"Miss Granger..." Minerva begins, trying to talk her cub down. There's unquestionably some affection and protectiveness, but also a certain degree of condescension in the sound of it. The latter comes, somewhat legitimately, from too many years of facing far too much student stupidity, and a resulting inability to see them as responsible adults. He doesn't completely disagree with the sentiment, his experiences matching hers near enough.
"Madam Snape," the young woman cuts across any potential objections. He can barely suppress his choking at that; fortunately Minerva's sputtering is far louder. He'd never have expected her to claim the name, but he can't deny how effective the manoeuvre was. It stopped her Head of House cold. Impressive. For a Gryffindor, anyway. Not completely useless in a fight then.
"He saved me." He feels her gratitude, her respect for him, and more bizarrely... pride. That last he's less sure about, and suspects this might be one of those things that differentiates the snakes and lions. But he bites his tongue and decides to watch this play out for a bit. She seems to be doing fine on her own. Certainly nothing he said was giving Minerva any pause, yet she seems to be willing to listen to her protégé. Miss Granger has come over to stand closer to him, by his bedside, still protectively positioned between himself and her favourite Professor. Forty-eight hours ago, he'd have considered it an impossibility.
She can feel his surprise clearly through their bond. It only serves to spur her on. He shouldn't be surprised she's defending him. This is only his due. If anything, that just makes her angrier at Professor McGonagall and the entire situation. He shouldn't be attacked for this, and he definitely shouldn't be surprised when someone comes to his defence. The fact he is tells her so much.
"That's as may be, but you're undoubtedly overwhelmed by what happened and feeling grateful, and those are hardly the ideal circumstances and certainly not a justification for him taking advantage of you in this way. It's all the more reason not to." Severus' face is immobile, a mask. His thoughts are a different matter, and Hermione feels the words land on him like a blow. It stokes her anger.
"Not at all, Professor. You've got that backwards. He tried to talk me out of it. I'm the one taking advantage of him as far as I'm concerned. He's providing me with an extra measure of safety. This isn't for his benefit. What do you think he's getting out of it?"
He's explained it to her, very clearly. He's trying to decide if this is just about pushing back against Minerva, or if Miss Granger still isn't entirely convinced by his reasons. He's not sure, but he feels her... conviction. What he can't determine is if she believes the truth of what she's saying, or simply that it is right to have done so.
Minerva shouldn't like to begin to imagine what he might be 'getting out of it'. It's far too... disturbing. Naturally, she'd find his actual reasons even more disturbing, but that's just typical of the Order members and their long established habits of avoiding the harsh realities. The vast majority of them have been steadfastly ignoring the facts of the war they're fighting, apparently with blinders on.
"It's misplaced gratitude, my dear. Severely misplaced..."
"And even if it were, Professor," the little witch interrupts her Head of House, "that is my decision and the deed is done and not up for discussion." Minerva's face clouds and when she opens her mouth to object, Miss Granger cuts her off. "He saved me," she repeats. "It nearly killed him, but he did it all the same."
"You've clearly grossly misjudged the severity of his wounds..." her hand lifts to indicate her quite evidently at least reasonably healthy colleague, whom she insists on continuing to discuss as though he weren't present or any more than a visual aid for her to make her point. Injured, no doubt. But near death? Hardly. She hadn't thought Miss Granger so given to hyberbole.
Severus can feel Miss Granger's outrage at that.
"It's down to pure luck, his strength, and Madam Pomfrey's considerable skill that he survived it, and yet he didn't hesitate. Never for a moment. And for his pains, he gets stuck bonded to me. This wasn't his idea. He didn't want this. He hasn't done anything... untoward." Her voice lowers as she says that, and she actually blushes. It's amusing, but also an uncomfortable reminder of how young she is. He could gladly throttle Albus at the moment. "And as thanks, his colleagues berate him." Her hand now sweeps up in a simultaneously demonstrative and dismissive gesture towards Minerva. "If he had given it any thought, he should have let me die."
His eyes tick instantly to her face as she says that. As he told her, he's really not at all certain her life was ever in danger per se. In fact, he was fairly convinced it wasn't, and she knows this. He's not sure if this is another tactic, laying things on a bit thick to convince Minerva, or because the young woman is less comfortable discussing the realities of the other night. Or simply not permitted to... Curse Albus. The bond tells him she's doesn't feel manipulative, and damn, that will take getting used to. So probably the latter.
And then he's struck by an intense wave of feeling across their bond. There's humiliation and shame and embarrassment and frustration and... self-loathing. He's all too familiar with the last. At first he's inclined to think all of that comes from her having been tied to him, of all people, and then he teases a certain sense out of the mess and realises she believes the truth of her words, he'd have been better off leaving her to her fate, and she hates with a blinding passion what she feels she has cost him. It's a far cry from his initial assessment of her feelings. He assumed she loathed him and hadn't cared to look at it more closely under the circumstances. This... this makes him feel... oddly protective.
"There was never any question of that." His voice is just a bit gruff, but certain. There's no room for doubt. She's staring at the floor, and he realises that she is fighting back the tears. He hesitantly reaches for her hand and as her fingers fold somewhat nervously around his, he gives her what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. "Never." His voice is softer now, and she manages to tear her gaze up off the floor and meet his.
Using their joined hands, he nudges her gently towards the chair... her chair beside his bed, and she tentatively takes a seat. "And it most certainly wouldn't have been a preferable result." And suddenly she's clutching his hand in both of hers like it's a lifeline, and in some senses, he understands that it is. He can feel the relief across the bond, and he's sure she can tell he's being sincere just as he could with her before. Perhaps it makes him foolhardy, but it has him trying something he'd never have dared otherwise. He raises an eyebrow and in his typically disapproving manner drawls, "Do think before you speak."
Minerva is about to protest most indignantly at that comment, even she can recognise how close the girl was to crying, when she sees something quite remarkable. The corner of Severus' mouth raises slightly, only ever so slightly, in a smirk, and Miss Granger breaks into the broadest smile imaginable and begins to laugh. And then Severus actually smiles. She's floored to realise that the two of them just seem to have shared a joke. That Severus was able to reassure the girl where she herself had virtually brought her to the brink of tears, and he, however improbably, had comforted her...
When Miss Granger smirks and rather cheekily answers, "What kind of Gryffindor would I be were I to do that?" and Severus actually laughs, well, her shock is complete. It's not a full bodied laugh, although his current condition might not have allowed for that. The comment probably didn't warrant it in any event. (Minerva isn't actually sure it was amusing in the least.) But. This speaks to a camaraderie she wouldn't have thought possible between the two, and she finds it somehow reassuring. It also raises some entirely different questions for her.
"I'm afraid I had the wrong picture entirely. I apologise, Severus, Miss Gran... Madam Snape." He has a hard time fighting back his smirk at that, and the look that the young witch at his side shoots him tells him she is well aware of that fact. He gives her another one of his nearly invisible smirks as Minerva continues. "Albus wasn't particularly clear about what transpired..."
Miss Granger, still holding his hand, has tensed visibly at that. The bond discloses the rest. It would undoubtedly be difficult enough for her to speak of the assault, but Dumbledore's gag order will certainly have made that far worse. But if she can't, he will.
Severus and Hermione, Minerva, Albus, Poppy
Originally Published: 2017-12-06 on AO3
Chapter: 033
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
"No worries, Sir. We protected your modesty," she reassures him in a way that now has him worried about a bunch of things that hadn't even occurred to him yet.
There's a knock at the door. As interruption is doubtlessly preferable to responding to the witch next to him, and the incriminating remains of their meals are Vanished, Severus calls out, "Come."
Albus, it would seem, just can't pop by often enough today.
"Albus, to what do we owe the pleasure?" His tone suggests it's anything but, and yet it sounds a great deal more polite than the 'what do you want from us now' that he's actually thinking. It makes no difference as the older man knows that, and him, all too well. Amusingly, what Severus can sense from Miss Granger through their bond seems no more welcoming. They would appear to be of the same opinion.
"Severus," Albus sounds downright cheery, "you're looking much improved." He wisely doesn't suggest that marriage seems to agree with the man. But then, he's also reasonably confident it doesn't.
"Poppy hopes to release me tonight."
"I imagine she does. And you're quite certain you'll be fit for classes tomorrow?"
"I intend to be, one way or another."
"Good, very good. I'm glad to hear it." There's a odd lapse in the conversation that Hermione doesn't understand. It feels like something else is going on that she doesn't quite comprehend, and she finds it confusing. The Potions Master seems to have no trouble letting the silence stretch, but it's making her uncomfortable.
The Headmaster likewise seems unfazed, but the longer it goes on, the more she begins to fidget. Which is silly, really. She's used this ploy with Harry and Ron often enough.
In the ensuing pause, she thinks again about the Professor's suggestion that she tell the next person who entered about their shared dessert. Or not. She's not entirely positive the Professor wanted her to attempt it, it was rather unclear... But as she fails to see any reason telling the Headmaster should present a problem, Merlin knows, he's fond enough of sweets, she determines to give it a try. If only to break the silence...
Facing the Headmaster and gesturing between herself and the man on the bed beside her she says, "We sh..." She tries again, "We spl..." With a broad grin, she turns to Professor Snape, "It works, Sir."
He just raises an eyebrow and looks at her in frank disbelief. On consideration, she's now not at all sure he really meant for her to test the Vow, and she's becoming increasingly less sure of her attempt the longer he's silent. "I... I thought you wanted me to check it?" She offers weakly.
"Yes. I can see how 'tell no one' left room for interpretation. It's patently obvious how that could be misconstrued..." he intones and she sinks lower into her chair.
Even more meekly she answers, "At least now we know it works, Sir."
"I'm not sure that it does quite as you believe, particularly if you were uncertain as to my feelings on the matter."
"I don't quite follow," Albus interjects.
Severus turns to him calmly and prevaricates, "She's trying to tell you I have a sweet tooth."
"Oh, well that's well established. Staff are well aware," the bearded man assures the young woman, nodding placidly, as though that were a matter of any importance and not completely beside the point.
And then he continues to address her in what Severus is sure was the reason for this visit, "If you have a moment, there were a few developments I wished to inform you of."
Severus doesn't even bother becoming offended that he apparently isn't to be informed. For one thing, he's fairly certain the little witch will update him anyway, whether either of them want her to or not, and for another, it feels like a... ruse. A bit of hand waving to distract from something else altogether. It's of no matter, it will come as it must.
She looks at him to see if he has any objections, which is... he's lacking an adjective and settles on 'odd'. 'Unexpected' works as well; 'considerate' is probably more accurate, although he fails to recognise that. He merely shrugs his agreement, or indifference, whichever, and she follows Albus from the room. It takes Severus a bit of effort not to stare at that top she's wearing now that she's shed the concealment of the blanket. Merlin's hairy...
The Headmaster leads Hermione into Madam Pomfrey's office, where the Matron is busy making notes on a parchment. "Albus? Do you need something?"
"If you wouldn't mind, Poppy, might we borrow your office for a few minutes?" Poppy thinks it's a strange request. The Infirmary is empty, and they could speak undisturbed there. If there were need for further privacy, a Charm would provide. But Albus is her boss, and if he needs the room, she sees no reason to argue.
With a "Certainly. The room's yours," she rises, deciding to look in on Severus instead.
Now that he's conscious, she imagines he would appreciate more privacy in his treatments anyway. Naturally, he'd have appreciated it while unconscious as well, just not as... actively. Poppy subscribes wholly to the 'what they don't know won't hurt them' school of medicine. Masters' level.
Regardless, she'd like to examine his wounds before he scarpers. Getting in at least another application of Dittany before he leaves will go a long way to reducing his scaring, poor lamb. She gathers her kit and proceeds to his room.
"What on earth have you done to your gown?" Can just be heard before she closes his door behind her to begin applying the remedy.
They take their seats at the Mediwitch's desk, and the Headmaster begins to tell Hermione that the Heads of Houses have been informed about the bonding. There have been two others this weekend as well, she believes he's telling her, but right now she's preoccupied trying hard not to picture Professor McGonagall's reaction. It can't have been pretty.
Apparently the other teachers will be informed tomorrow, and then Professor Dumbledore will pull Harry and Ron aside and brief them. He most likely is talking about announcing it to the school sometime after, it's all a little fuzzy, because if the notion of Professor McGonagall's reaction was distracting, certainly the thoughts of her friends' responses are more so. No, she's having a lot of difficulty following any of it.
Tomorrow won't be pleasant, she realises with a start.
"Severus, how could you?!"
The the force of the door slamming open, the shriek, there's no mistaking Minerva's outrage. Realistically, it was to be expected, but that doesn't diminish his disappointment. She's known him for over twenty-six years. More than sixteen of those they have been colleagues. He had even thought they were more than just coworkers these days. Possibly... friends. They've both worked hand in hand as members of the Order for years. He had hoped some or any of that would count for something. He should have known better.
Minerva, for her part, is forced to acknowledge there can be a number of perfectly good reasons for closed doors, particularly in an Infirmary. One of them sits before her. Severus, unusually pale, is seated on the bed, naked, at least what she can see of him, from the waist up, and Poppy is currently daubing a tincture of some kind on his wounds, of which there are many. Very many.
The Matron turns on her with "Minerva! This is highly irregular!"
The problem with wanting to flay Severus, Minerva discovers when she finally catches up to him, is that the man looks like he's already been flayed. Within a fraction of an inch of his life. Repeatedly. He looks like he fell in a Muggle threshing machine and improbably survived it. He's covered in a network of scars she can't imagine anyone receiving and certainly not surviving. Any desire on her part to cause physical harm evaporates at the sight of all the damage he's clearly withstood.
She finds herself revising everything she thought she knew about his role in the war. Oddly, when he missed classes, more frequently of late, she never thought to question how much abuse it would take to make him do so. She should have known better. In all the years prior to You-Know-Who's return, he'd never missed a one, not even after being bitten by a Cerberus.
He summons a dignity Minerva also can't conceive of anyone possessing and as though she hadn't just grievously violated his privacy, and discovered things she never should have known, he turns to Poppy and politely asks the Matron to give them some privacy. Privacy, that thing Minerva's just robbed him of. She feels terribly wrong-footed already; she'll simply compensate by doubling down on the invectives and accusations. This cannot stand.
"Thank you, Poppy," he adds as the Mediwitch turns to leave. "We can finish this later."
"Please see that we do, Severus. They still need to be tended." For all the softness in her tone as she addresses him, the glare she gives Minerva on her way out could curdle blood.
The Transfigurations Professor's bloodlust may be slaked, but she's still spitting nails, and this situation with her favourite student is untenable. She intends to give him a mouthful. "How could you?!" she repeats.
He's still incredibly calm. He's probably used to being accosted like this. "Minerva, tell me please, what was my offence here?" He asks as he quietly pulls his black gown back on. A wave of his hand seems to Vanish buttons she can't account for down its front.
"What have I done wrong, beyond letting the old fool corral me into a lifetime of celibacy and to sacrifice the little privacy I still had in an environment such as this? Or would you care to extend a similar level of protection and be bonded to Mr. Potter?" She looks absolutely mortified at the suggestion.
"Quite. Appealing proposition, isn't it? If you have issues with it, kindly take them up with Albus. This... obscenity was not of my doing. Neither the situation that gave rise to the need of it, nor this... solution in answer to it. The universal... disapproval will just make it that much more... pleasurable."
He's sneering now, as disdainfully as he can from his sickbed. The effect isn't nearly as convincing as when he's swooping about in his own robes at full height, but he does a passable job, the sincerity of his aggrievement lending it an added degree of conviction.
In the Matron's office, Hermione feels the searing hurt across the bond, the disappointment, humiliation and feeling of... betrayal. Professor Dumbledore was mid-sentence, she thinks, after the fact, but at the moment her focus is entirely elsewhere, and she shoots from her seat and runs to Professor Snape's room, only to hear her Transfigurations Professor lace into him. Albus doesn't even bother trying to hide his smile as she darts off.
The Professor's lying there, half dead because of her. He nearly died saving her. Professor Dumbledore has sentenced him to a life bonded to her, and this is how he's thanked for it?
"She's only a girl! She's your student!" Professor McGonagall sounds livid.
And at that Miss Granger rushes into his room, pushing past the indignant older witch and putting herself in a decidedly protective stance before him. She's such a petite thing, the sight almost makes him smirk at its absurdity. She rounds on the taller woman, metaphorically swinging, drawing herself up to subconsciously match Minerva as best she can in stature and attitude.
"Not his student. Not any more. I'm no longer in his classes. And hardly a girl. I've been of age for more than a year. Over the age of consent for more than two. Or even far longer, as the Ministry would have it, considering someone gave me a Time Turner to use. In third year, no less.
"Technically, I believe one is supposed to be older to use a Time Turner than even required for marriage by Ministry law. I assume you are aware of those restrictions. Did I have maturity then that I somehow lack at present?"
He's not entirely sure what she's referring to, but there's no mistaking her pointed tone or looks, even without the bond telegraphing her feelings, and that accusatory inflection seems to resonate with his colleague somehow. Minerva actually looks a little abashed. Interesting. Perhaps he'll be able to pursue that later.
"Miss Granger..." Minerva begins, trying to talk her cub down. There's unquestionably some affection and protectiveness, but also a certain degree of condescension in the sound of it. The latter comes, somewhat legitimately, from too many years of facing far too much student stupidity, and a resulting inability to see them as responsible adults. He doesn't completely disagree with the sentiment, his experiences matching hers near enough.
"Madam Snape," the young woman cuts across any potential objections. He can barely suppress his choking at that; fortunately Minerva's sputtering is far louder. He'd never have expected her to claim the name, but he can't deny how effective the manoeuvre was. It stopped her Head of House cold. Impressive. For a Gryffindor, anyway. Not completely useless in a fight then.
"He saved me." He feels her gratitude, her respect for him, and more bizarrely... pride. That last he's less sure about, and suspects this might be one of those things that differentiates the snakes and lions. But he bites his tongue and decides to watch this play out for a bit. She seems to be doing fine on her own. Certainly nothing he said was giving Minerva any pause, yet she seems to be willing to listen to her protégé. Miss Granger has come over to stand closer to him, by his bedside, still protectively positioned between himself and her favourite Professor. Forty-eight hours ago, he'd have considered it an impossibility.
She can feel his surprise clearly through their bond. It only serves to spur her on. He shouldn't be surprised she's defending him. This is only his due. If anything, that just makes her angrier at Professor McGonagall and the entire situation. He shouldn't be attacked for this, and he definitely shouldn't be surprised when someone comes to his defence. The fact he is tells her so much.
"That's as may be, but you're undoubtedly overwhelmed by what happened and feeling grateful, and those are hardly the ideal circumstances and certainly not a justification for him taking advantage of you in this way. It's all the more reason not to." Severus' face is immobile, a mask. His thoughts are a different matter, and Hermione feels the words land on him like a blow. It stokes her anger.
"Not at all, Professor. You've got that backwards. He tried to talk me out of it. I'm the one taking advantage of him as far as I'm concerned. He's providing me with an extra measure of safety. This isn't for his benefit. What do you think he's getting out of it?"
He's explained it to her, very clearly. He's trying to decide if this is just about pushing back against Minerva, or if Miss Granger still isn't entirely convinced by his reasons. He's not sure, but he feels her... conviction. What he can't determine is if she believes the truth of what she's saying, or simply that it is right to have done so.
Minerva shouldn't like to begin to imagine what he might be 'getting out of it'. It's far too... disturbing. Naturally, she'd find his actual reasons even more disturbing, but that's just typical of the Order members and their long established habits of avoiding the harsh realities. The vast majority of them have been steadfastly ignoring the facts of the war they're fighting, apparently with blinders on.
"It's misplaced gratitude, my dear. Severely misplaced..."
"And even if it were, Professor," the little witch interrupts her Head of House, "that is my decision and the deed is done and not up for discussion." Minerva's face clouds and when she opens her mouth to object, Miss Granger cuts her off. "He saved me," she repeats. "It nearly killed him, but he did it all the same."
"You've clearly grossly misjudged the severity of his wounds..." her hand lifts to indicate her quite evidently at least reasonably healthy colleague, whom she insists on continuing to discuss as though he weren't present or any more than a visual aid for her to make her point. Injured, no doubt. But near death? Hardly. She hadn't thought Miss Granger so given to hyberbole.
Severus can feel Miss Granger's outrage at that.
"It's down to pure luck, his strength, and Madam Pomfrey's considerable skill that he survived it, and yet he didn't hesitate. Never for a moment. And for his pains, he gets stuck bonded to me. This wasn't his idea. He didn't want this. He hasn't done anything... untoward." Her voice lowers as she says that, and she actually blushes. It's amusing, but also an uncomfortable reminder of how young she is. He could gladly throttle Albus at the moment. "And as thanks, his colleagues berate him." Her hand now sweeps up in a simultaneously demonstrative and dismissive gesture towards Minerva. "If he had given it any thought, he should have let me die."
His eyes tick instantly to her face as she says that. As he told her, he's really not at all certain her life was ever in danger per se. In fact, he was fairly convinced it wasn't, and she knows this. He's not sure if this is another tactic, laying things on a bit thick to convince Minerva, or because the young woman is less comfortable discussing the realities of the other night. Or simply not permitted to... Curse Albus. The bond tells him she's doesn't feel manipulative, and damn, that will take getting used to. So probably the latter.
And then he's struck by an intense wave of feeling across their bond. There's humiliation and shame and embarrassment and frustration and... self-loathing. He's all too familiar with the last. At first he's inclined to think all of that comes from her having been tied to him, of all people, and then he teases a certain sense out of the mess and realises she believes the truth of her words, he'd have been better off leaving her to her fate, and she hates with a blinding passion what she feels she has cost him. It's a far cry from his initial assessment of her feelings. He assumed she loathed him and hadn't cared to look at it more closely under the circumstances. This... this makes him feel... oddly protective.
"There was never any question of that." His voice is just a bit gruff, but certain. There's no room for doubt. She's staring at the floor, and he realises that she is fighting back the tears. He hesitantly reaches for her hand and as her fingers fold somewhat nervously around his, he gives her what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze. "Never." His voice is softer now, and she manages to tear her gaze up off the floor and meet his.
Using their joined hands, he nudges her gently towards the chair... her chair beside his bed, and she tentatively takes a seat. "And it most certainly wouldn't have been a preferable result." And suddenly she's clutching his hand in both of hers like it's a lifeline, and in some senses, he understands that it is. He can feel the relief across the bond, and he's sure she can tell he's being sincere just as he could with her before. Perhaps it makes him foolhardy, but it has him trying something he'd never have dared otherwise. He raises an eyebrow and in his typically disapproving manner drawls, "Do think before you speak."
Minerva is about to protest most indignantly at that comment, even she can recognise how close the girl was to crying, when she sees something quite remarkable. The corner of Severus' mouth raises slightly, only ever so slightly, in a smirk, and Miss Granger breaks into the broadest smile imaginable and begins to laugh. And then Severus actually smiles. She's floored to realise that the two of them just seem to have shared a joke. That Severus was able to reassure the girl where she herself had virtually brought her to the brink of tears, and he, however improbably, had comforted her...
When Miss Granger smirks and rather cheekily answers, "What kind of Gryffindor would I be were I to do that?" and Severus actually laughs, well, her shock is complete. It's not a full bodied laugh, although his current condition might not have allowed for that. The comment probably didn't warrant it in any event. (Minerva isn't actually sure it was amusing in the least.) But. This speaks to a camaraderie she wouldn't have thought possible between the two, and she finds it somehow reassuring. It also raises some entirely different questions for her.
"I'm afraid I had the wrong picture entirely. I apologise, Severus, Miss Gran... Madam Snape." He has a hard time fighting back his smirk at that, and the look that the young witch at his side shoots him tells him she is well aware of that fact. He gives her another one of his nearly invisible smirks as Minerva continues. "Albus wasn't particularly clear about what transpired..."
Miss Granger, still holding his hand, has tensed visibly at that. The bond discloses the rest. It would undoubtedly be difficult enough for her to speak of the assault, but Dumbledore's gag order will certainly have made that far worse. But if she can't, he will.