“beyond wandpoint” 054 by gingerbred
“11 10q Monday - Draco's Sorting”
Severus and Hermione, Draco, Sunny
Originally Published: 2018-01-30 on AO3
Chapter: 054
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Severus is in a curious mood. It's not entirely wretched, actually. That's nothing shy of a wonder considering the events of the past three days, which had been wretched, or at least those bits he'd been conscious for. He's divided whether the torture Friday at the Manor or bonding a student was worse. The coma, it should go without saying, was preferable to either.
He's being flippant, naturally. The bonding is atrocious, absolutely abominable, because it's permanent. Theoretically further reaching. Unless he were to die some time soon that is. The torture had been quite painful after all. Idly, and more than a little perversely, he wonders how soon he would need to die for the bond not to be worse. Unless it were the reason for his death, he supposes...
Tricky. A diverting bit of mental gymnastics. Just the sort of thing that helps keep him sane.
Relatively.
On the other hand, given the people he's comparing himself to, that's probably not saying all that much. The Dark Lord, Greyback, Bellatrix... Thankfully no contest there. But it's becoming less and less clear how sane Albus even still is, particularly when one considers the old goat's insistence on the aforementioned bonding.
And what does it say about Severus to have agreed to it?
For starters, probably that he shouldn't make such sweeping decisions from his sick bed... Hmm.
Nevertheless, his mood is improving by the moment. It's reasonably good, in fact, not that anyone could tell. Not in the least. No, he's in his element. His appearance is rather convincingly terrifying as he storms down the corridors, robes billowing, dragging, pushing, pulling and otherwise roughly manhandling Draco along with him to the Transfigurations classroom, the scene of the boy's crime. One of them anyway.
Severus is going to enjoy this.
Just as well, really. He could use a little more joy in his life.
Now that Severus is out of the Hall, away from all those screaming minds and voices, he has to acknowledge it: it had probably gone better than he could have hoped, all considered. Realistically the mutters of 'paedo' were only to be expected. They'll undoubtably become louder in the days to come and were hardly a surprise under the circumstances.
He'd like to be able to say it left him cold, but it hadn't quite. Best get used to it. Those very same people will be decrying him as a murderer soon enough. He's been steeling himself against that for months now, which may have helped him tonight. Small mercies.
'Paedo', it transpires, seems a little harder for him to stomach, probably because by contrast it's not true.
It is something of a relief, however, to have the announcement of the bonding behind him.
That's beyond stupid, obviously, as it won't change the reception of the news, not in the short term, but he had rather been dreading it all day. Well, after he got done dreading the notification of the other staff members, that is. His free hand reaches up and rubs his ribs purely by reflex just at the thought.
Hagrid.
Bless.
His snakes had believed in him, which provided some consolation. That most likely would have been a betrayal too far had they not. Their expressions, their body language revealed much. Casual Legilimency did the rest. Their displeasure was directed at the Headmaster and the outcry from the other tables. They had silently rallied to his... side.
But not quite his... defence.
Part of that was natural caution, something he can only applaud. Merlin knows, his life would have been... so different had he only hesitated before taking action once in a while.
Or perhaps he'd be dead, he amends that thought. It's hard to say. Either way, certainly... different.
Mostly the Slytherins' reserve stemmed from not being sure how to come to his defence. Yet. It's next to impossible to manoeuvre judiciously in the absence of information. But there is untapped potential there. Something to work with.
Unfortunately, he'll be disinclined to help them much with that, seeing it as too self-serving. That it may be, but it would also help them defend themselves against the calumny some quarters are all too fond of engaging in. Not that they're exactly innocent of the same, of course, but then, not even the Hufflepuffs refrain; expecting a Slytherin to do so is patently ridiculous.
Fortunately, for him and them, they're not dependent on him to supply them with the means to act.
Thinking of things to work with... He pushes Draco again, propelling him forward, and smirks to himself at the sight.
Severus has been saddled with an incredibly cumbersome Geas that should prove absurdly difficult to manage. Because why the hell not? Really, he doesn't know what Albus was thinking, although the time for wondering has rather passed. But as luck would have it, he's just been handed a golden opportunity to make his life a great deal easier effectively within minutes of the bond being announced.
That is lucky. It's about time something broke his way.
Things could be worse. They will be worse. But just for this moment, they're coming together fairly nicely. He chooses to focus on the positive for a change. How novel.
First things first. For all her agitation earlier, Miss Granger is quite evidently unharmed. She's no longer even particularly upset really, judging by the bond. Variable creature. She's probably sought the comfort of her... feline.
And a book.
Beyond that, Draco's unwaning idiocy provides Severus with the ideal opening to see to it that word gets back to the parties that matter, both in and outside of the castle, that the witch stands under his protection, that his Vows mean he will act to see she's kept safe. He couldn't have asked for anyone better positioned for that news to spread, thoroughly and quickly. And he can accomplish that at no additional risk whatsoever to himself, and it would seem with only minimal inconvenience to Miss Granger in the process. Splendid.
All of that coupled with a perfectly legitimate excuse to have Draco pay for his misdeeds a little further... Not to mention thanking him properly for instigating this fiasco, of course. How marvellously... fortuitous.
Additionally, Miss Granger, he is sure, is firmly in denial about the events of Friday, and that will certainly lead to difficulties. Sooner rather than later, if he's any judge. He has the chance to address that here as well.
He hadn't wished to force the issue. For a variety of reasons. Beyond a natural reluctance, he's unsure of the ethicality of doing so, but then he's quite accustomed to ignoring the ethics of things. He's grown almost comfortable with it in fact. However, the efficacy of making her confront some of those issues is equally in question, and far more relevant. But he's quite certain, this should do double duty.
Multitasking, how lovely.
He's thought about his Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa a lot since yesterday. Apparently being strong-armed into bonding a student combined with the nature of Draco's... activities Friday had provided... adequate motivation. There's almost always leeway in Vows and Oaths; he personally doesn't hold much store by them. Still, far better than relying solely on Legilimency, as the Dark Lord does, assuming one is sufficiently detail oriented.
Narcissa, naturally, hadn't been cautious enough, or hadn't dared try to ask for more, whichever, but the way the Vows were phrased left him protecting Draco from harm only to the best of his own ability while the boy 'attempts to fulfil the Dark Lord's wishes'.
Well then. That's fairly amorphous. Severus had probably promised to do more when he agreed to become his godfather. Admittedly without threat of the pains of death should he fail. Preferable on balance, no question.
When one considers that educational measures are obviously in the lad's best interests... Not absolutely harmful in the least... Not at all. No, they're practically advantageous. As long as what he does to Draco can be framed as for the boy's 'own good', he can get away with almost anything.
And intends to.
Unfortunately, not everything can be couched as 'educational', no matter how much he'd like it. Some things are all too obviously... retaliatory. And it's probably wise not to be seen as such, not too often anyway. He wouldn't want to give Bella any ideas.
In an effort to remain undetected last night, he'd had to resort to having Sunny arrange Draco's plunge down the stairwell instead of simply doing it himself. On the other hand, it had made it easier for him to catch the boy, breaking just the right number of limbs in the process. That would be all of them, naturally. Poppy had had him on a variety of exceedingly painful Mending Charms and Regrowth Potions all day long. And there again was another fine example of the weaknesses of Vows, as well as the dangers house elves present.
Sunny, thankfully, isn't plagued by issues of conscience. For all their ear wringing, Severus isn't convinced house elves have consciences in the typical human sense of the word. They certainly have completely different standards.
It's probably better that way.
Arriving at their destination, Severus frog marches the boy into the room, a shove sends him nearly sprawling. Draco half turns on the ground trying to face his enraged Head of House, but the man is already upon him.
"Did you learn nothing Friday?"
"Sir?"
"You persist in compounding your stupidity."
Draco is smart enough to hold his tongue for once and lies there staring at him in silence. As the silence stretches, an awareness of their surroundings filters in.
There's a brief moment of disorientation as they both look about discreetly in confusion. Neither lets that moment last long. They are both far too accustomed to not allowing themselves any weakness and certainly never showing any if humanly possible.
But the grounds for their confusion is more than reasonable. The room, one that they had both last been in together only three evenings ago, has somehow, improbably, rotated ninety degrees. Clockwise, not that most wizards know the term, as Severus would happily, pedantically, disdainfully point out. Repeatedly. And has.
Except the room hasn't rotated of course, the windows make that only too clear. But someone, obviously a member of the staff, had rearranged the room. Quite thoroughly.
The individual student desks have been replaced with tables for three, the chairs have yielded to benches. It more closely resembles Severus' own classroom configuration now, except he has stools instead. The Professor's desk is now off to the right and no longer at the front as one enters. And her chair...
It's completely plain, devoid of all decoration. Gone is the embellishing splat, replaced by vertical square dowels that now comprise the chair's austere backrest. It's an effect somewhere between Mackintosh and minimalism, and utterly uncharacteristic of Minerva, a Transfigurations Mistress much enamoured of ornamentation. Her chair is nothing like the one that stood here just days ago.
The one to which Miss Granger had been tied.
And suddenly it's clear. Minerva. She had seen his memories of Friday. Some of them, anyway. Perhaps she could also no longer stand the sight of the room and that chair herself, but well aware Miss Granger would be forced to return to her classroom, Minerva had set about changing it as best she could.
Severus appreciates that act of kindness. Greatly. He feels he... owes her for it. He doesn't interrogate why he should feel he is more responsible for Miss Granger's well being than her Head of House, which is just as well. He seems to be slipping into that role without much deliberation. That's probably for the best. He wouldn't be pleased to notice it.
He doesn't consider long, he acts on impulse. It's just a token really, but it will have to do for now. An arc of his wand moves the piece of furniture to the space between Minerva's desk and the students', directly before where Draco now lies. Severus steps over the boy, like so much rubbish in the street, taking a stand in front of her new chair with it's closely spaced bannisters.
With a few flicks of his wand, he carves a shallow image of Minerva's Animagus form, her cat form, into the backrest's front surface. She'll know when she sees it that it must have been a staff member, students can't make any significant changes to inventory.
Shy of explosions in his classroom, he rectifies wryly. How bleeding typical of his luck.
He's satisfied with the result of his Charms on the chair.
He's an overly critical idiot - it turns out beautifully, of course. He wouldn't settle for anything less. Woodworking is a bit of a hobby of his, and he's equally good with a knife or a wand. He enjoys sculpting beauty out of an unremarkable block of wood, just as he loves making a viable potion or a delicious meal from a motley assortment of inauspicious ingredients for much the same reasons.
Strangely, he's never noticed any significance in the importance he places on things having hidden value, easily overlooked, or in the pleasure he derives from revealing it.
Minerva will probably suspect he's the one who modified her chair. That's... acceptable. He's basically tagged her seat, he thinks with a silent huff of amusement. But she'll probably understand the implicit thanks, even if she is a Gryffindor.
He reaches down and grabs Draco by the front of his robes, twisting his fists tightly in the fabric and pulling him upright like a limp rag doll. He gives him a bit of a shake for good measure as he plucks the wand from the boy's sleeve.
Draco's no longer small, by any means, but Severus is exceptionally tall and towers over the lad. He may be thin, too thin by far for his size, but he's wiry and he has a man's build, and the boy is dwarfed beside him. Draco is all too familiar with being menaced with magic, which reveals far too much about his terrifying home life, but the physical, the purely physical is something he hasn't had to face all that often. It has a way of getting through to a person.
And Severus is very eager to make himself... heard.
He throws the blond into the chair, a good deal harder than necessary to get the job done, and with a couple more sweeps of his wand has him bound there just as Miss Granger had been not seventy-two hours before. He spins Draco's wand between his long fingers demonstratively before placing it in much the same location the boys had left Miss Granger's wand Friday evening. Draco's eyes betray his recognition of that fact.
"I think we have some things to discuss," Severus begins, the threat of what's to come clear in his tone.
Draco finds himself in a bit of a bind, literally and figuratively. Right now, the lot of his Housemates owling home can only relate that something, undefined, happened to him yesterday, he spent the night and most of the day in the Infirmary, and he consequently did... something, equally undisclosed, at dinner that seems to have landed him squarely in trouble. That's not nearly as helpful as he'd like.
Or needs.
Severus, obviously, will be able and possibly even willing or obliged to report back more to the Manor, except he's undoubtedly not well disposed towards him right now. Not in the least. The tightness of the ligatures forming the literal part of said bind was a pretty good hint of that, if nothing else.
When Severus is done with him, there are likely to be indications - Merlin, if he's lucky, they'll be only that - of what transpired. Theo is bright enough to deduce what happened, good enough to send word home, and connected enough that it would go to the right people. But he's not necessarily trusted enough, considered reliable enough, for that to help sufficiently, and Draco desperately needs help.
So in the absence of better options, or any other options at all, really, Draco takes a gamble. There are at least three good reasons this will explode in his face like one of Longbottom's cauldrons, but there's a good chance, once Severus has some time to reflect, that he'll pass along the information that will save Draco's neck. Still, he expects it will be painful.
Extremely so.
In a terrible rush of words that don't make nearly as much sense as Draco would like, he starts to tell the fuming wizard all about how Potter, and presumably Weasley, had thrown him down the Grand Staircase last night, putting him in the Infirmary. Once yet again.
Bugger. Severus hadn't deliberately intended to leave the boy in the certainty that Potter had attacked him. That was completely inadvertent. And, it seems, unfortunate. He quite honestly hadn't known about the Weasleys' Wheeze. Poor reconnaissance, that's what it was, but Sunny didn't know any better, and he himself had been busy being comatose after all. And getting bonded... And whose fault was that? Draco is a clear favourite for that particular title.
Truth be told, he was probably enjoying cake, immensely, at that exact moment, but he sees no need to split hairs. Well, not out loud.
But this current situation is more than a little Severus' own fault... And then he reminds himself that the boy hadn't hesitated to... He's still not sure what exactly he did to Miss Granger earlier but 'torment' seems a suitable word. He hadn't hesitated to torment someone he'd already harmed. Again. It assuages much of the guilt Severus might feel here.
Picturing Miss Granger, more than a little unwillingly, as she'd been in this room Friday dispels most of his last remaining doubts...
Thanking Severus somewhat obsequiously, admittedly he may be babbling, for the rescue last night - his Arresto Momentum Duo had meant the difference between life and death, there are no two ways about it - Draco quickly proceeds to attempt to explain how he had to take action, and soon, or he'd be in a great deal of trouble. 'He's' not known for his patience. 'They' aren't going to care the hear he'd done something a week from now... Or even tomorrow. Draco needed to act, and he did.
Severus understands only too well. He has much the same problems. Regularly. But the fact remains that Draco chose the one person he shouldn't have, and Severus' life will be greatly simplified the sooner everyone comes to accept that and leaves the witch the hell alone.
Always assuming the Dark Lord doesn't just kill him for bonding her in the first place, that is.
So they both find themselves in the oh so noble positions of choosing to inflict harm on someone else to keep Him... sweet.
Aren't they the stalwarts of society? Shining exemplars of their brave new world.
"Well then, I'll be sure to let them know you tried." Severus hisses at him. "Shall I tell them how ineffective your paltry attempt was?"
That naturally was the nature of the gamble. Severus was clearly incensed, but if Severus were to get past that rage, he's probably the one best placed in Hogwarts to make it clear to those who mattered both that Draco had tried to do something and probably won't be in any position to risk doing so again.
Obviously, were he to find himself with the opportunity to take action against Potter directly, and get away with it, of course, he would be expected to do so, and certainly not adverse to it, he'd never claim otherwise, but there will no longer be any pressure to act. Not if he wants to have any chance with his primary task of murdering Dumbledore that is.
Whatever Severus has in store for him will probably hurt, but it won't kill him. These days, that's a win.
"I believe I was quite clear," Severus proceeds. "But perhaps you weren't in a receptive frame of mind. If you have problems with Potter, I expect you to take them up with Potter." And right there was the first reason Draco anticipates Severus to have little understanding for his actions. Respecting witches in general and undoubtedly his godfather's bondmate in the specific case should be reasons two and three.
"And not get caught while about it," Severus continues, seething. Hmm. Yes, there was that, too. Draco wisely doesn't point out that getting caught was rather the whole point of what he'd done. Severus can't know that, he can't even suspect it, or this won't help him when Draco faces his Aunt and the Dark Lord. It doesn't occur to him that Severus is far more capable of Occluding than he is, or might just be inclined to protect him from those two, even after all he's done. He's not used to having anyone's help.
"Somehow you seem to have done the diametrical opposite of that. But your accuracy in doing so was almost admirable." Draco recognises sarcasm when he hears it. It's practically his native tongue. Severus' face is virtually a rictus of loathing. This won't end well for him, Draco is sure.
Draco believes he's ready, braced for whatever comes next, but Severus' silent Stupefy still takes him by surprise, not that he has time to react to it. His body sags unconscious against the ropes holding him to McGonagall's chair.
Severus looks thoughtfully at the boy as he considers his next move. He doesn't have much time, and a number of things yet to accomplish. In the interests of expediency, he summons his elf.
"Sunny, could you tell me where Miss Granger is at the moment?"
"Mistress is in chambers, Master of Potions, Sir."
"Would you please ask her to meet me in front of the Great Hall? I'll meet her halfway."
"Yes, Sir, Master, Sir," Sunny answers and is gone from one moment to the next with the softest of pops to mark his vanishing.
Severus heads back to the Great Hall, to meet Miss Granger before the doors. He didn't want her making her way there again on her own, nor did he wish to increase her anxiety by announcing his intentions. This seems a reasonable compromise.
His legs are longer, he was already en route and reaches his destination before the young woman, and can't help a bit of pacing as he marks the time. Still, she doesn't leave him waiting long.
"Sir, Sunny said you wanted me to meet you here?" He spins to face her as she speaks. She had apparently changed out of her uniform after dinner into jeans, trainers and one of those fitted blouses she seems to favour in private of late, the ones that leave him somewhat discomfited. Fortunately there's very little lace involved tonight. Small favours. She hadn't paused to do more than don a covering robe at Sunny's summons. He... appreciates her prompt response.
"As my presence here would seem to confirm..." He's got one eyebrow raised and a look on his face that clearly says she's slow witted, but the words lack bite. She suspects he's trying to wind her up.
As she meets his eyes, he does an exceptionally careful bit of Legilimency to determine what precisely Draco had said before. It's very precise, and he veers to neither side in her memories in a somewhat contradictory consideration of her privacy. He views this information as necessary to what he has planned, but correctly considers it unlikely she would tell him. He also finds trying to force her to do so, insisting that she do so, a cruelty too far.
She might not see it the same way, but then she also hasn't supplied him with the information they had agreed to. So for better or worse, he's sorted it as harmlessly as he knows how. And frankly, for such an accomplished Legilimens as himself, it's almost second nature.
He now has a slight problem. Having seen what actually transpired, he realises what Draco must have been trying to do. The fool boy had very clearly, deliberately not done anything he considers particularly... bad. Offensive. Severus weighs the irony of that.
No, the boy had opted for something he considered essentially... harmless. It makes perfect sense when one considers Draco's ability to Occlude coupled with the verbal abuse he's been subjected to all his life. Severus is only too familiar with the effects of that. The Malfoys' home situation has never been good. Lucius had always been far from understanding or supportive, becoming more and more like his father Abraxas with age, but since the Death Eaters had begun using the Manor as their home base...
No, Draco hadn't hexed her, he attacked with words. That she might be better equipped to deal with a hex probably never crossed his feeble little mind. And Severus has a pretty good idea of why Draco would do something so utterly useless and public. He may as well have dipped her plaits in an ink pot or tugged her bunches for all it had achieved.
A substantial portion of Severus' anger at the boy dissipates as he considers it. He no longer wishes to make him... squirm. But. She had definitely been... hurt by the confrontation, and there will be an expectation of how he should respond to this.
Miss Granger's Loyalty Vow may provide him with some protection were he to explain his inaction or mercy to her, should he choose not to act, but that Vow doesn't extend to Draco. Her memories aren't safe. Failing that, the action he takes needs to make sense from her standpoint too. And the boy's memories of a punishment will prove useful, for all three of them, the next time he's called to the Manor.
Whatever Severus does needs to be decisive, something that explains perfectly why Draco never takes action against her again. It won't be pleasant, but he has a notion of how to keep this short.
He'll send Sunny to Theo with the Anti-spasmodic later.
"Present and accounted for, then," she quips, completely unaware of what had just transpired. "May I ask what you wanted?"
"You may." He turns with a swirl of his cloak, clearly intending to say no more, and she can't help smirking. It's unusual to encounter someone with more verbal precision than she has. Still, as he hasn't said to follow, she just remains standing. Two can play that game. He rectifies that with a short, "Do keep up, Miss Granger."
She has to jog after him to do so, initially, and she's still weighing whether the small satisfaction turnabout had provided was worth the indignity of doing so. But as she draws abreast, he actually slows so she can easily keep pace. He says nothing as he does it, doesn't even cast a glance her way, but there's something companionable, inclusive, and frankly considerate about it that wars with the cool indifference he otherwise projects. Determined not to make the same mistake she had yesterday, today she keeps pace. She's stopped wondering about verbal sparring and shifted her focus onto that, and it's a while before she notices where they're headed.
When she does, she comes to an involuntary halt in her tracks.
"Sir?" The best she can manage is a very faint and pleading tone. It's not even close to what she intended. She tries to clear her throat, wanting to try that again, but somehow can't seem to find her voice at all now. He understands, and this is something for which he does have patience. Surprisingly, from her viewpoint. Less so from his.
The fear he can feel radiating from her removes the last bit of hesitation he has about punishing Draco. It's entirely the boys' doing, and their ringleader is about to pay for it.
"Come, Miss Granger, it will be alright." He turns slightly to face her and reaches out a hand to take hers. Their fingers close around each other's, and he leads her back to his side. Once she reaches it, he switches his hands and places her arm through the crook of his, and in a very elegant fashion, almost nonchalantly escorts her towards the Transfigurations classroom door as if they were out for an evening stroll.
"Someone needs to apologise for his appalling behaviour." She tenses just a bit, and he drops his arm from hers to let his hand slide supportively to the small of her back. Bending closer to her, he speaks low enough so that only she will hear, no matter how much the portraits might try, practically whispering in her ear, "I'm here, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. But I think it's important that we clear the air."
She just nods and swallows hard at that. He's right, of course. It won't have been good that the bond had demanded his assistance earlier... She's even less aware than he is that his watchful eye hadn't been a manifestation of the Geas. She also needs to return to this classroom tomorrow, but she has no idea how to do it. If her difficulty now is any indication...
Holy Cricket. This wasn't going to be easy.
And right now, she had someone literally leading her there by the hand. Maybe she should have told Harry what happened. But then she wasn't allowed to, was she? She has to swallow again, blinks a few times to stop the tears that threaten to fall, and the Professor, who's been keeping a close but surreptitious eye on her, waits until she's regained control before opening the door.
She shouldn't be surprised, but is, when he opens it to see Malfoy sitting there. Clearly Stupefied, bound to a chair, the position frighteningly familiar, slumped against the ropes, faced towards the door. The Potions Master leads her into the room and effectively parks her not too far from the blond.
She stays there as though rooted to the spot. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising at her tension; she couldn't move another step if she wanted to. But then, she very much doesn't wish to go further. However, she's not altogether sure she wants to leave, either.
Severus waits for the young woman to calm down some. He can see her struggle to gather herself. And of course their bond betrays the rest.
She hadn't quite realised how badly off she was. She thought she had a better handle on this. She has no idea how she ever thought she could face Malfoy in this classroom again. What did she think she was she going to do for Transfigurations tomorrow morning?
Gods. This was difficult.
Draco seems to agree with that sentiment, fully, as Severus turns a rather powerful and decidedly cold Aqua Eructo on him, drenching him most thoroughly and pulling him roughly back to consciousness from the Stupefy. A Rennervate to revive him was clearly deemed far too comfortable by comparison. The boy splutters and shakes his head, trying to get the water from his eyes.
"Malfoy, how good of you to join us." The Professor's voice is pure ice. He's truly imposing when he draws himself up like that, and she shouldn't like to be in Malfoy's shoes.
Except that was just the problem. She had been, and all too recently.
"I don't think you've been properly introduced. Allow me. May I present, Madam Snape." With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he indicates Miss Granger; Draco is still struggling to take it all in. "My wife, and I expect you to treat her accordingly. I believe you owe her an apology.
"Was I less than clear Friday night? Or are you simply uncertain how to properly address the wife of your Head of House?" He sounds incredibly angry now, and he's doing a fantastic job of unnerving both the young witch and wizard. "Shall I give you a hint? It's not 'Mudblood'."
Hermione turns to stare at him at that, because she's pretty sure he can only know that if he used Legilimency on her. He can't possibly have heard. Perhaps he used it on Malfoy again. If she felt uncomfortable with this whole arrangement before, she's gone beyond that now. She knows the bond will have told the Professor as much, but she has no experience with suppressing these kinds of feelings, and he doesn't miss a beat as he continues, very much the terrifying Death Eater he had told her he was.
It's so at odds with the consideration he shown her just minutes ago in the hallway that she isn't sure what to make of it.
The bond transmits that uncertainty of hers as well, and even if she doesn't begin to understand it, it encourages him to continue. Had she simply discounted him as evil, he'd probably be less invested in ensuring her safety. And that's a significant part of what he is doing.
"You, my boy," there's that inflection for 'boy' again, "don't seem to appreciate the gift you've been given. Instead of flying out of this school on your arse, you remain, and this is how you conduct yourself?
"What did I tell you about treating women appropriately? What led you to think I wasn't serious? And just how did you arrive at the conclusion my wife shouldn't be treated at least as well?" Dimly Draco notes that's objections two and three accounted for then. Severus sounds furious, and his questions are punctuated by small drops of spittle flying from his mouth. "And what on earth possessed you to think I'd stand for it? I do believe it's past time to work on those manners of yours. Such terribly poor breeding. Whatever would your mother say?
"And what part of not speaking about the events of Friday was too difficult for you to comprehend? You will not speak of them again. If you so much as hint of them to her," this accompanied by a stab of his hand towards Hermione, whom he has otherwise largely ignored. She finds herself on the verge of panicking, wishing she were anywhere else. "...Or in her presence, or encourage anyone else to do so, you will wish you had never drawn breath. Am I clear enough for you now?
"Currently, the only one paying for that remarkable bout of imbecility Friday is myself. Rest assured, that shall not remain the case." The barely controlled fury in his voice is at complete odds with what she can feel through the bond, and serves only to confuse her further.
Then in a move so sudden she couldn't follow it, he's drawn his wand, flicked it at the boy and removed his clothes, much as Madam Pomfrey does, except that the Potions Master drops them crumpled in a pile in the corner with a wet 'squish' and leaves the young Slytherin bound to the chair in nothing but his pants. The visual very clearly echoes her exposure from Friday, and she is immensely uncomfortable seeing it.
The Professor possibly isn't doing all that much better with it, and he turns his back to the blond, as though he weren't worth another glance. He looks at Hermione again for the first time since they entered the room. With another movement, he's clearly cast an Unforgiveable, the Cruciatus, on Malfoy and doesn't lift it for what seems like an age. She knows it must have been only moments, but they stretch interminably. She can't begin to imagine how long they must seem to him.
Hermione is appalled at the sight. She averts her gaze, looking at the Professor instead, their eyes lock, while in the background Malfoy twitches and screams. The Potions Master hits the boy with the Curse again, and soon enough, he's seated in a puddle of urine.
"Oh, look," he cries, directing her attention to the blond, "he's soiled himself. Shall we take a picture? Something to remember the evening by? Perhaps send Lucius a copy? How proud he must be to have such a fine..." a scornful glance at the boy's crotch is followed by a derogatory, "specimen for a son."
It's not long before Hermione hears a voice she can hardly recognise as her own begging him to stop.
"I don't believe I can, Madam Snape. He has failed to apologise. What do you say to your godmother, Draco? Hmm?" Hermione goes a particularly harsh shade of chartreuse at that tidbit. Draco looks worse. She had wondered about Professor Snape's relationship to the young man, especially since he called him 'Uncle', but never imagined they were this close. Somehow it makes the scene that much harder for her to witness.
But what really confuses her is the approval she can feel lapping through their bond. She assumed from his demeanour that he would be infuriated at her interruption, at best irritated or possibly disappointed if he actually cared about her actions. She can't imagine he does, but still... Approval makes absolutely no sense at all.
"I'm sorry!" Draco gasps, "Merlin, I'm sorry! I'll never do it again." He finishes that last on a sob, and there's no doubting his desperation. His sincerity may be another question, but Hermione is quite sure he'll wish to avoid a repeat of this evening at all costs.
"And Draco, she didn't have to come running to me to tell me of your amusing little asides. Unlike you, she understands what it means not to say a word. But thanks to your... escapades Friday, I'm now in a position to know even when she doesn't say a thing.
"Should you decide to try anything like this again, ever again, you won't leave the room under your own steam. Leave the witch be, and do rein in your idiocy, before I am required to do so for you. Have I made myself clear enough for you this time?" Draco merely nods stupidly in response, tears streaming down his face, drool covering his chin, the tremors from the Cruciatus after effects already setting in, and his pants very noticeably stained.
"Get dressed and return to your room. Now. Before I reconsider." And with that, the boy is no longer restrained in the chair and flops to the floor where he begins a torturously slow scramble for his clothes, plunked indiscriminately in a damp heap a few yards away.
Miss Granger meanwhile has turned, studiously avoiding Draco, and is staring at a portrait of a group of centaurs with a frankly disturbed expression. He doesn't know why, can't begin to guess, but suspects she spent too long staring at it Friday night and is having problems with the associated memories. True enough.
Quite a number of problems from what she's projecting.
Well, that's precisely what a practice run is good for. No better time than the present to address those issues.
A wave of his wand has the portrait detached from the wall, faculty privileges, and he shrinks it and places it in his pocket. He'll have Sunny return it to Minerva later with a note of explanation. After everything else she was willing to do to change her classroom, he's sure his colleague won't mind the liberty he's taking. Miss Granger's eyes widen as she follows his movements, but she visibly relaxes ever so slightly once the painting has disappeared from sight. He takes it for confirmation that he's handling this properly.
The young woman wants nothing more than to bolt, to run from here, leaving this classroom and the sight of Malfoy far behind her. Everything about her screams it. So naturally he can't let her. For once he isn't doing that to be difficult. It's a sensible precaution, a measure he can take now to make tomorrow easier for her.
And by extension himself, of course.
He'll keep her here a little longer, until she becomes more comfortable with both the room and the presence of her assailant. Whether it's occurred to her or not, she shares every single one of her classes with the boy. She needs to be able to get past her panic. Her fear. And it will give both of them something entirely different to associate with this room. Draco will never taunt her again.
Severus looks around the classroom once more. It seems in poor form to leave Minerva's chair in such a state, and so he Scourgifies it before magicking it back into place behind her desk. With a glance at the nervous witch to his side, he has another bit of inspiration and asks, "Where do you sit?"
Hermione neither understands the point of the question nor hesitates to even so much as consider asking about it. She simply tries to answer. She has to look around for a moment, the layout, the furniture has changed, but assuming she takes a seat at the table that's now the equivalent of the desk at which she'd sat... Biting her lower lip, she points to a spot in the middle of the front row bench to the left of Professor McGonagall's desk, "There, I suppose." She sounds every bit as unsteady as she feels, but she's holding up remarkably well all considered.
Certainly better than Draco, who is a gibbering mess, still sobbing in the corner. To be fair, the Cruciatus is no easy thing to take.
He had it coming.
Ignoring the boy, Severus crosses the room to the bench she had indicated and takes a seat. He looks at her a moment, calculating, and then absurdly slouches slightly, it seems so incongruous she thinks she's imagined it, except she hasn't, and then he draws his wand and gets to work on Minerva's chair again.
Hermione can see he's using a Charm to carve... something into the wood of the backrest, and without thinking advances to where he sits. He finishes, rises, vacates the bench and with a gesture, a wave of his hand indicates she should take a seat in his stead. When she does and looks again at Professor McGonagall's chair, she's stunned to see the left side of the chair's bannisters have now been carved. From this position, from her seat, she's looking at a perfect rendition of... Crooks.
He actually made a carving of Crooks on the chair.
She turns to him with a look of wonder, but thankfully has the foresight to refrain from saying anything too revealing in Malfoy's presence. She half leaps from the bench and tries looking at it from different angles. Only from her seat does the carving resolve into an unmistakable image of her cherished familiar. It's a stunning bit of precision and projection to make that work, and she's quite taken... With his work, of course.
He observes her very evident pleasure, and it's not a patch on what he feels through the bond. Encouraged, keeping a close eye on her for signs of distress and seeking her approval, and isn't that unexpected, he lifts his wand again and begins to work the front legs of Minerva's chair until they have echoes of the same design Miss Granger's own desk chair in their quarters has. She had liked it, he'd known that as soon as she saw it. He hopes this will give her a sense of... ownership. Make her feel more... at home in this room.
It does. He can feel it, and it drives him to continue until all four legs, both arms and stiles are done. The absurdity of that, that the association with something that only a day before had been his chair, his quarters, that that should provide her with a sense of comfort... Fortunately it doesn't occur to him in the moment. And later he'll have other things on his mind.
His efforts have the benefit of returning some of the ornamentation to the furniture that Minerva had generously been willing to forgo. And at the least, he suspects Minerva would be likely to forgive him for his presumption if it is meant to help her favourite cub.
"Would you mind, terribly, doing another?" She still sounds timid, but her appreciation of his work is overriding her fear. She gestures to the chair, and he lifts an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. "From here," she says, stopping by the door and turning back to face the room.
"What would you like?" He asks. People don't seem to be too concerned with what she likes just at the moment, and something in her responds strongly to that simple query. And something in him responds to that response, not that it shows. Much.
"If you wouldn't mind," she answers, her voice gaining confidence, "a crow. In flight. Descending." Her hand goes up to reflexively finger her pendant, it appears to be a miniature phial. Had someone offered him a considerable number of Galleons, he still wouldn't have been able to guess that as her motif of choice, and he can't begin to fathom why she'd want it. But that isn't the point of this exercise.
"Show me?" He asks turning to face her, and she shifts position coming to stand closer to him, very close to him, so he can more easily meet her eyes. He finds something... reassuring, appealing in her willingness to approach him despite the fear his performance just moments ago had so obviously engendered. She still trusts him, and that's... unexpectedly important.
A soft Legilimens later, he's incredibly gentle, and he sees what she means. He still hasn't the remotest idea why she wants it, he hadn't pried, but he knows precisely what she wants. He moves to the doorway. It's only the work of another moment, that and a slightly silly hunching to her height, that she finds anything but and that he is somehow willing to do despite her presence to witness it, Draco is in no shape to notice, to etch the crow into the right side of the square dowels that form the backrest. From this position, as she enters the room, the diving crow is visible.
Again she ducks, steps to the side, and then makes a ridiculous little hop to ascertain that if someone is taller or shorter, they won't be able to see what she sees. It's like a delicious secret. She nibbles on her lower lip, biting back her nervous smile.
He may not know it or even suspect it, but that's how she sees him. How he swooped in Friday to save her. The image provides her with some comfort. A good deal of it, in fact. Her hand closes tightly about her necklace as she looks at it and finally, finally begins to smile.
He can feel her begin to relax, and decides he's accomplished what he can here. Draco has begun to collect himself and attempt to get dressed, and it's probably for the best if they don't remain here much longer. Severus' expression clouds again, and he crosses to the table where he'd placed Draco's wand. In a move meant to demonstrate that he has nothing whatsoever to fear from the boy, he tosses the wand onto the top of his heap of clothes, clearly showing how little he cares if he's armed. It has the advantage of leaving Draco better able to help clean and dry himself in the process.
The blond looks up from the floor as he does it, not missing the usefulness of the action, and with an incredibly raw voice that breaks as he tries to speak tells him, "Thank you, Sir."
Severus nods coolly, glaring. Draco gathers what he can of his mettle, he has something crucial to say, but precious little desire to risk doing so. Still, it needs doing, and he continues, "You should know. Friday." He gulps and his eyes close, bracing for an explosion that fortunately doesn't come. "Theo asked us, told us to stop."
It dawns on him that might just have made things worse, that it might leave Theo in even more trouble, just with different people, which was hardly the point. He isn't trying to make it appear that his friend is disloyal or weak. He rephrases. "He said it wasn't very smart. We'd be caught. And we were."
Severus stands silently, observing him for a moment. Then, his lips tight, he nods again. All considered, it took some courage for the boy to speak up just now. "Duly noted," he replies with audible contempt. "See to it you're back in the dorms before curfew unless you wish to spend still more time with Mr. Filch."
Severus offers Hermione his arm, which she senses she should take for the sake of appearances, and he turns her away from this scene and leads her from the room.
When they reach the hallway and the door is firmly closed behind them, he releases her. He faces her and is surprisingly tranquil and it's very difficult to reconcile his demeanour with the emotions he had on display mere moments ago, which makes her question how much of this is real and how much theatre.
Without any malice or even the hint of reproach, he tells her, "Miss Granger, if you have any issues in the future, kindly inform me as soon as possible, so I can address them before things can get out of control. It reflects on both of us, and there are actions I shall be expected to take. Your life, my life may depend on it.
"I haven't the luxury, and by extension neither do you, to not act when required. I request that you aid me in this, and not leave me in the dark.
“But I am... hopeful that this shall take care of things for a while."
She gives him a small nod, and they turn and begin to make their way in silence back to their chambers for the evening.
But this time she finds herself walking by his side and doesn't venture from it.
Severus and Hermione, Draco, Sunny
Originally Published: 2018-01-30 on AO3
Chapter: 054
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Severus is in a curious mood. It's not entirely wretched, actually. That's nothing shy of a wonder considering the events of the past three days, which had been wretched, or at least those bits he'd been conscious for. He's divided whether the torture Friday at the Manor or bonding a student was worse. The coma, it should go without saying, was preferable to either.
He's being flippant, naturally. The bonding is atrocious, absolutely abominable, because it's permanent. Theoretically further reaching. Unless he were to die some time soon that is. The torture had been quite painful after all. Idly, and more than a little perversely, he wonders how soon he would need to die for the bond not to be worse. Unless it were the reason for his death, he supposes...
Tricky. A diverting bit of mental gymnastics. Just the sort of thing that helps keep him sane.
Relatively.
On the other hand, given the people he's comparing himself to, that's probably not saying all that much. The Dark Lord, Greyback, Bellatrix... Thankfully no contest there. But it's becoming less and less clear how sane Albus even still is, particularly when one considers the old goat's insistence on the aforementioned bonding.
And what does it say about Severus to have agreed to it?
For starters, probably that he shouldn't make such sweeping decisions from his sick bed... Hmm.
Nevertheless, his mood is improving by the moment. It's reasonably good, in fact, not that anyone could tell. Not in the least. No, he's in his element. His appearance is rather convincingly terrifying as he storms down the corridors, robes billowing, dragging, pushing, pulling and otherwise roughly manhandling Draco along with him to the Transfigurations classroom, the scene of the boy's crime. One of them anyway.
Severus is going to enjoy this.
Just as well, really. He could use a little more joy in his life.
Now that Severus is out of the Hall, away from all those screaming minds and voices, he has to acknowledge it: it had probably gone better than he could have hoped, all considered. Realistically the mutters of 'paedo' were only to be expected. They'll undoubtably become louder in the days to come and were hardly a surprise under the circumstances.
He'd like to be able to say it left him cold, but it hadn't quite. Best get used to it. Those very same people will be decrying him as a murderer soon enough. He's been steeling himself against that for months now, which may have helped him tonight. Small mercies.
'Paedo', it transpires, seems a little harder for him to stomach, probably because by contrast it's not true.
It is something of a relief, however, to have the announcement of the bonding behind him.
That's beyond stupid, obviously, as it won't change the reception of the news, not in the short term, but he had rather been dreading it all day. Well, after he got done dreading the notification of the other staff members, that is. His free hand reaches up and rubs his ribs purely by reflex just at the thought.
Hagrid.
Bless.
His snakes had believed in him, which provided some consolation. That most likely would have been a betrayal too far had they not. Their expressions, their body language revealed much. Casual Legilimency did the rest. Their displeasure was directed at the Headmaster and the outcry from the other tables. They had silently rallied to his... side.
But not quite his... defence.
Part of that was natural caution, something he can only applaud. Merlin knows, his life would have been... so different had he only hesitated before taking action once in a while.
Or perhaps he'd be dead, he amends that thought. It's hard to say. Either way, certainly... different.
Mostly the Slytherins' reserve stemmed from not being sure how to come to his defence. Yet. It's next to impossible to manoeuvre judiciously in the absence of information. But there is untapped potential there. Something to work with.
Unfortunately, he'll be disinclined to help them much with that, seeing it as too self-serving. That it may be, but it would also help them defend themselves against the calumny some quarters are all too fond of engaging in. Not that they're exactly innocent of the same, of course, but then, not even the Hufflepuffs refrain; expecting a Slytherin to do so is patently ridiculous.
Fortunately, for him and them, they're not dependent on him to supply them with the means to act.
Thinking of things to work with... He pushes Draco again, propelling him forward, and smirks to himself at the sight.
Severus has been saddled with an incredibly cumbersome Geas that should prove absurdly difficult to manage. Because why the hell not? Really, he doesn't know what Albus was thinking, although the time for wondering has rather passed. But as luck would have it, he's just been handed a golden opportunity to make his life a great deal easier effectively within minutes of the bond being announced.
That is lucky. It's about time something broke his way.
Things could be worse. They will be worse. But just for this moment, they're coming together fairly nicely. He chooses to focus on the positive for a change. How novel.
First things first. For all her agitation earlier, Miss Granger is quite evidently unharmed. She's no longer even particularly upset really, judging by the bond. Variable creature. She's probably sought the comfort of her... feline.
And a book.
Beyond that, Draco's unwaning idiocy provides Severus with the ideal opening to see to it that word gets back to the parties that matter, both in and outside of the castle, that the witch stands under his protection, that his Vows mean he will act to see she's kept safe. He couldn't have asked for anyone better positioned for that news to spread, thoroughly and quickly. And he can accomplish that at no additional risk whatsoever to himself, and it would seem with only minimal inconvenience to Miss Granger in the process. Splendid.
All of that coupled with a perfectly legitimate excuse to have Draco pay for his misdeeds a little further... Not to mention thanking him properly for instigating this fiasco, of course. How marvellously... fortuitous.
Additionally, Miss Granger, he is sure, is firmly in denial about the events of Friday, and that will certainly lead to difficulties. Sooner rather than later, if he's any judge. He has the chance to address that here as well.
He hadn't wished to force the issue. For a variety of reasons. Beyond a natural reluctance, he's unsure of the ethicality of doing so, but then he's quite accustomed to ignoring the ethics of things. He's grown almost comfortable with it in fact. However, the efficacy of making her confront some of those issues is equally in question, and far more relevant. But he's quite certain, this should do double duty.
Multitasking, how lovely.
He's thought about his Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa a lot since yesterday. Apparently being strong-armed into bonding a student combined with the nature of Draco's... activities Friday had provided... adequate motivation. There's almost always leeway in Vows and Oaths; he personally doesn't hold much store by them. Still, far better than relying solely on Legilimency, as the Dark Lord does, assuming one is sufficiently detail oriented.
Narcissa, naturally, hadn't been cautious enough, or hadn't dared try to ask for more, whichever, but the way the Vows were phrased left him protecting Draco from harm only to the best of his own ability while the boy 'attempts to fulfil the Dark Lord's wishes'.
Well then. That's fairly amorphous. Severus had probably promised to do more when he agreed to become his godfather. Admittedly without threat of the pains of death should he fail. Preferable on balance, no question.
When one considers that educational measures are obviously in the lad's best interests... Not absolutely harmful in the least... Not at all. No, they're practically advantageous. As long as what he does to Draco can be framed as for the boy's 'own good', he can get away with almost anything.
And intends to.
Unfortunately, not everything can be couched as 'educational', no matter how much he'd like it. Some things are all too obviously... retaliatory. And it's probably wise not to be seen as such, not too often anyway. He wouldn't want to give Bella any ideas.
In an effort to remain undetected last night, he'd had to resort to having Sunny arrange Draco's plunge down the stairwell instead of simply doing it himself. On the other hand, it had made it easier for him to catch the boy, breaking just the right number of limbs in the process. That would be all of them, naturally. Poppy had had him on a variety of exceedingly painful Mending Charms and Regrowth Potions all day long. And there again was another fine example of the weaknesses of Vows, as well as the dangers house elves present.
Sunny, thankfully, isn't plagued by issues of conscience. For all their ear wringing, Severus isn't convinced house elves have consciences in the typical human sense of the word. They certainly have completely different standards.
It's probably better that way.
Arriving at their destination, Severus frog marches the boy into the room, a shove sends him nearly sprawling. Draco half turns on the ground trying to face his enraged Head of House, but the man is already upon him.
"Did you learn nothing Friday?"
"Sir?"
"You persist in compounding your stupidity."
Draco is smart enough to hold his tongue for once and lies there staring at him in silence. As the silence stretches, an awareness of their surroundings filters in.
There's a brief moment of disorientation as they both look about discreetly in confusion. Neither lets that moment last long. They are both far too accustomed to not allowing themselves any weakness and certainly never showing any if humanly possible.
But the grounds for their confusion is more than reasonable. The room, one that they had both last been in together only three evenings ago, has somehow, improbably, rotated ninety degrees. Clockwise, not that most wizards know the term, as Severus would happily, pedantically, disdainfully point out. Repeatedly. And has.
Except the room hasn't rotated of course, the windows make that only too clear. But someone, obviously a member of the staff, had rearranged the room. Quite thoroughly.
The individual student desks have been replaced with tables for three, the chairs have yielded to benches. It more closely resembles Severus' own classroom configuration now, except he has stools instead. The Professor's desk is now off to the right and no longer at the front as one enters. And her chair...
It's completely plain, devoid of all decoration. Gone is the embellishing splat, replaced by vertical square dowels that now comprise the chair's austere backrest. It's an effect somewhere between Mackintosh and minimalism, and utterly uncharacteristic of Minerva, a Transfigurations Mistress much enamoured of ornamentation. Her chair is nothing like the one that stood here just days ago.
The one to which Miss Granger had been tied.
And suddenly it's clear. Minerva. She had seen his memories of Friday. Some of them, anyway. Perhaps she could also no longer stand the sight of the room and that chair herself, but well aware Miss Granger would be forced to return to her classroom, Minerva had set about changing it as best she could.
Severus appreciates that act of kindness. Greatly. He feels he... owes her for it. He doesn't interrogate why he should feel he is more responsible for Miss Granger's well being than her Head of House, which is just as well. He seems to be slipping into that role without much deliberation. That's probably for the best. He wouldn't be pleased to notice it.
He doesn't consider long, he acts on impulse. It's just a token really, but it will have to do for now. An arc of his wand moves the piece of furniture to the space between Minerva's desk and the students', directly before where Draco now lies. Severus steps over the boy, like so much rubbish in the street, taking a stand in front of her new chair with it's closely spaced bannisters.
With a few flicks of his wand, he carves a shallow image of Minerva's Animagus form, her cat form, into the backrest's front surface. She'll know when she sees it that it must have been a staff member, students can't make any significant changes to inventory.
Shy of explosions in his classroom, he rectifies wryly. How bleeding typical of his luck.
He's satisfied with the result of his Charms on the chair.
He's an overly critical idiot - it turns out beautifully, of course. He wouldn't settle for anything less. Woodworking is a bit of a hobby of his, and he's equally good with a knife or a wand. He enjoys sculpting beauty out of an unremarkable block of wood, just as he loves making a viable potion or a delicious meal from a motley assortment of inauspicious ingredients for much the same reasons.
Strangely, he's never noticed any significance in the importance he places on things having hidden value, easily overlooked, or in the pleasure he derives from revealing it.
Minerva will probably suspect he's the one who modified her chair. That's... acceptable. He's basically tagged her seat, he thinks with a silent huff of amusement. But she'll probably understand the implicit thanks, even if she is a Gryffindor.
He reaches down and grabs Draco by the front of his robes, twisting his fists tightly in the fabric and pulling him upright like a limp rag doll. He gives him a bit of a shake for good measure as he plucks the wand from the boy's sleeve.
Draco's no longer small, by any means, but Severus is exceptionally tall and towers over the lad. He may be thin, too thin by far for his size, but he's wiry and he has a man's build, and the boy is dwarfed beside him. Draco is all too familiar with being menaced with magic, which reveals far too much about his terrifying home life, but the physical, the purely physical is something he hasn't had to face all that often. It has a way of getting through to a person.
And Severus is very eager to make himself... heard.
He throws the blond into the chair, a good deal harder than necessary to get the job done, and with a couple more sweeps of his wand has him bound there just as Miss Granger had been not seventy-two hours before. He spins Draco's wand between his long fingers demonstratively before placing it in much the same location the boys had left Miss Granger's wand Friday evening. Draco's eyes betray his recognition of that fact.
"I think we have some things to discuss," Severus begins, the threat of what's to come clear in his tone.
Draco finds himself in a bit of a bind, literally and figuratively. Right now, the lot of his Housemates owling home can only relate that something, undefined, happened to him yesterday, he spent the night and most of the day in the Infirmary, and he consequently did... something, equally undisclosed, at dinner that seems to have landed him squarely in trouble. That's not nearly as helpful as he'd like.
Or needs.
Severus, obviously, will be able and possibly even willing or obliged to report back more to the Manor, except he's undoubtedly not well disposed towards him right now. Not in the least. The tightness of the ligatures forming the literal part of said bind was a pretty good hint of that, if nothing else.
When Severus is done with him, there are likely to be indications - Merlin, if he's lucky, they'll be only that - of what transpired. Theo is bright enough to deduce what happened, good enough to send word home, and connected enough that it would go to the right people. But he's not necessarily trusted enough, considered reliable enough, for that to help sufficiently, and Draco desperately needs help.
So in the absence of better options, or any other options at all, really, Draco takes a gamble. There are at least three good reasons this will explode in his face like one of Longbottom's cauldrons, but there's a good chance, once Severus has some time to reflect, that he'll pass along the information that will save Draco's neck. Still, he expects it will be painful.
Extremely so.
In a terrible rush of words that don't make nearly as much sense as Draco would like, he starts to tell the fuming wizard all about how Potter, and presumably Weasley, had thrown him down the Grand Staircase last night, putting him in the Infirmary. Once yet again.
Bugger. Severus hadn't deliberately intended to leave the boy in the certainty that Potter had attacked him. That was completely inadvertent. And, it seems, unfortunate. He quite honestly hadn't known about the Weasleys' Wheeze. Poor reconnaissance, that's what it was, but Sunny didn't know any better, and he himself had been busy being comatose after all. And getting bonded... And whose fault was that? Draco is a clear favourite for that particular title.
Truth be told, he was probably enjoying cake, immensely, at that exact moment, but he sees no need to split hairs. Well, not out loud.
But this current situation is more than a little Severus' own fault... And then he reminds himself that the boy hadn't hesitated to... He's still not sure what exactly he did to Miss Granger earlier but 'torment' seems a suitable word. He hadn't hesitated to torment someone he'd already harmed. Again. It assuages much of the guilt Severus might feel here.
Picturing Miss Granger, more than a little unwillingly, as she'd been in this room Friday dispels most of his last remaining doubts...
Thanking Severus somewhat obsequiously, admittedly he may be babbling, for the rescue last night - his Arresto Momentum Duo had meant the difference between life and death, there are no two ways about it - Draco quickly proceeds to attempt to explain how he had to take action, and soon, or he'd be in a great deal of trouble. 'He's' not known for his patience. 'They' aren't going to care the hear he'd done something a week from now... Or even tomorrow. Draco needed to act, and he did.
Severus understands only too well. He has much the same problems. Regularly. But the fact remains that Draco chose the one person he shouldn't have, and Severus' life will be greatly simplified the sooner everyone comes to accept that and leaves the witch the hell alone.
Always assuming the Dark Lord doesn't just kill him for bonding her in the first place, that is.
So they both find themselves in the oh so noble positions of choosing to inflict harm on someone else to keep Him... sweet.
Aren't they the stalwarts of society? Shining exemplars of their brave new world.
"Well then, I'll be sure to let them know you tried." Severus hisses at him. "Shall I tell them how ineffective your paltry attempt was?"
That naturally was the nature of the gamble. Severus was clearly incensed, but if Severus were to get past that rage, he's probably the one best placed in Hogwarts to make it clear to those who mattered both that Draco had tried to do something and probably won't be in any position to risk doing so again.
Obviously, were he to find himself with the opportunity to take action against Potter directly, and get away with it, of course, he would be expected to do so, and certainly not adverse to it, he'd never claim otherwise, but there will no longer be any pressure to act. Not if he wants to have any chance with his primary task of murdering Dumbledore that is.
Whatever Severus has in store for him will probably hurt, but it won't kill him. These days, that's a win.
"I believe I was quite clear," Severus proceeds. "But perhaps you weren't in a receptive frame of mind. If you have problems with Potter, I expect you to take them up with Potter." And right there was the first reason Draco anticipates Severus to have little understanding for his actions. Respecting witches in general and undoubtedly his godfather's bondmate in the specific case should be reasons two and three.
"And not get caught while about it," Severus continues, seething. Hmm. Yes, there was that, too. Draco wisely doesn't point out that getting caught was rather the whole point of what he'd done. Severus can't know that, he can't even suspect it, or this won't help him when Draco faces his Aunt and the Dark Lord. It doesn't occur to him that Severus is far more capable of Occluding than he is, or might just be inclined to protect him from those two, even after all he's done. He's not used to having anyone's help.
"Somehow you seem to have done the diametrical opposite of that. But your accuracy in doing so was almost admirable." Draco recognises sarcasm when he hears it. It's practically his native tongue. Severus' face is virtually a rictus of loathing. This won't end well for him, Draco is sure.
Draco believes he's ready, braced for whatever comes next, but Severus' silent Stupefy still takes him by surprise, not that he has time to react to it. His body sags unconscious against the ropes holding him to McGonagall's chair.
Severus looks thoughtfully at the boy as he considers his next move. He doesn't have much time, and a number of things yet to accomplish. In the interests of expediency, he summons his elf.
"Sunny, could you tell me where Miss Granger is at the moment?"
"Mistress is in chambers, Master of Potions, Sir."
"Would you please ask her to meet me in front of the Great Hall? I'll meet her halfway."
"Yes, Sir, Master, Sir," Sunny answers and is gone from one moment to the next with the softest of pops to mark his vanishing.
Severus heads back to the Great Hall, to meet Miss Granger before the doors. He didn't want her making her way there again on her own, nor did he wish to increase her anxiety by announcing his intentions. This seems a reasonable compromise.
His legs are longer, he was already en route and reaches his destination before the young woman, and can't help a bit of pacing as he marks the time. Still, she doesn't leave him waiting long.
"Sir, Sunny said you wanted me to meet you here?" He spins to face her as she speaks. She had apparently changed out of her uniform after dinner into jeans, trainers and one of those fitted blouses she seems to favour in private of late, the ones that leave him somewhat discomfited. Fortunately there's very little lace involved tonight. Small favours. She hadn't paused to do more than don a covering robe at Sunny's summons. He... appreciates her prompt response.
"As my presence here would seem to confirm..." He's got one eyebrow raised and a look on his face that clearly says she's slow witted, but the words lack bite. She suspects he's trying to wind her up.
As she meets his eyes, he does an exceptionally careful bit of Legilimency to determine what precisely Draco had said before. It's very precise, and he veers to neither side in her memories in a somewhat contradictory consideration of her privacy. He views this information as necessary to what he has planned, but correctly considers it unlikely she would tell him. He also finds trying to force her to do so, insisting that she do so, a cruelty too far.
She might not see it the same way, but then she also hasn't supplied him with the information they had agreed to. So for better or worse, he's sorted it as harmlessly as he knows how. And frankly, for such an accomplished Legilimens as himself, it's almost second nature.
He now has a slight problem. Having seen what actually transpired, he realises what Draco must have been trying to do. The fool boy had very clearly, deliberately not done anything he considers particularly... bad. Offensive. Severus weighs the irony of that.
No, the boy had opted for something he considered essentially... harmless. It makes perfect sense when one considers Draco's ability to Occlude coupled with the verbal abuse he's been subjected to all his life. Severus is only too familiar with the effects of that. The Malfoys' home situation has never been good. Lucius had always been far from understanding or supportive, becoming more and more like his father Abraxas with age, but since the Death Eaters had begun using the Manor as their home base...
No, Draco hadn't hexed her, he attacked with words. That she might be better equipped to deal with a hex probably never crossed his feeble little mind. And Severus has a pretty good idea of why Draco would do something so utterly useless and public. He may as well have dipped her plaits in an ink pot or tugged her bunches for all it had achieved.
A substantial portion of Severus' anger at the boy dissipates as he considers it. He no longer wishes to make him... squirm. But. She had definitely been... hurt by the confrontation, and there will be an expectation of how he should respond to this.
Miss Granger's Loyalty Vow may provide him with some protection were he to explain his inaction or mercy to her, should he choose not to act, but that Vow doesn't extend to Draco. Her memories aren't safe. Failing that, the action he takes needs to make sense from her standpoint too. And the boy's memories of a punishment will prove useful, for all three of them, the next time he's called to the Manor.
Whatever Severus does needs to be decisive, something that explains perfectly why Draco never takes action against her again. It won't be pleasant, but he has a notion of how to keep this short.
He'll send Sunny to Theo with the Anti-spasmodic later.
"Present and accounted for, then," she quips, completely unaware of what had just transpired. "May I ask what you wanted?"
"You may." He turns with a swirl of his cloak, clearly intending to say no more, and she can't help smirking. It's unusual to encounter someone with more verbal precision than she has. Still, as he hasn't said to follow, she just remains standing. Two can play that game. He rectifies that with a short, "Do keep up, Miss Granger."
She has to jog after him to do so, initially, and she's still weighing whether the small satisfaction turnabout had provided was worth the indignity of doing so. But as she draws abreast, he actually slows so she can easily keep pace. He says nothing as he does it, doesn't even cast a glance her way, but there's something companionable, inclusive, and frankly considerate about it that wars with the cool indifference he otherwise projects. Determined not to make the same mistake she had yesterday, today she keeps pace. She's stopped wondering about verbal sparring and shifted her focus onto that, and it's a while before she notices where they're headed.
When she does, she comes to an involuntary halt in her tracks.
"Sir?" The best she can manage is a very faint and pleading tone. It's not even close to what she intended. She tries to clear her throat, wanting to try that again, but somehow can't seem to find her voice at all now. He understands, and this is something for which he does have patience. Surprisingly, from her viewpoint. Less so from his.
The fear he can feel radiating from her removes the last bit of hesitation he has about punishing Draco. It's entirely the boys' doing, and their ringleader is about to pay for it.
"Come, Miss Granger, it will be alright." He turns slightly to face her and reaches out a hand to take hers. Their fingers close around each other's, and he leads her back to his side. Once she reaches it, he switches his hands and places her arm through the crook of his, and in a very elegant fashion, almost nonchalantly escorts her towards the Transfigurations classroom door as if they were out for an evening stroll.
"Someone needs to apologise for his appalling behaviour." She tenses just a bit, and he drops his arm from hers to let his hand slide supportively to the small of her back. Bending closer to her, he speaks low enough so that only she will hear, no matter how much the portraits might try, practically whispering in her ear, "I'm here, and you have absolutely nothing to worry about. But I think it's important that we clear the air."
She just nods and swallows hard at that. He's right, of course. It won't have been good that the bond had demanded his assistance earlier... She's even less aware than he is that his watchful eye hadn't been a manifestation of the Geas. She also needs to return to this classroom tomorrow, but she has no idea how to do it. If her difficulty now is any indication...
Holy Cricket. This wasn't going to be easy.
And right now, she had someone literally leading her there by the hand. Maybe she should have told Harry what happened. But then she wasn't allowed to, was she? She has to swallow again, blinks a few times to stop the tears that threaten to fall, and the Professor, who's been keeping a close but surreptitious eye on her, waits until she's regained control before opening the door.
She shouldn't be surprised, but is, when he opens it to see Malfoy sitting there. Clearly Stupefied, bound to a chair, the position frighteningly familiar, slumped against the ropes, faced towards the door. The Potions Master leads her into the room and effectively parks her not too far from the blond.
She stays there as though rooted to the spot. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising at her tension; she couldn't move another step if she wanted to. But then, she very much doesn't wish to go further. However, she's not altogether sure she wants to leave, either.
Severus waits for the young woman to calm down some. He can see her struggle to gather herself. And of course their bond betrays the rest.
She hadn't quite realised how badly off she was. She thought she had a better handle on this. She has no idea how she ever thought she could face Malfoy in this classroom again. What did she think she was she going to do for Transfigurations tomorrow morning?
Gods. This was difficult.
Draco seems to agree with that sentiment, fully, as Severus turns a rather powerful and decidedly cold Aqua Eructo on him, drenching him most thoroughly and pulling him roughly back to consciousness from the Stupefy. A Rennervate to revive him was clearly deemed far too comfortable by comparison. The boy splutters and shakes his head, trying to get the water from his eyes.
"Malfoy, how good of you to join us." The Professor's voice is pure ice. He's truly imposing when he draws himself up like that, and she shouldn't like to be in Malfoy's shoes.
Except that was just the problem. She had been, and all too recently.
"I don't think you've been properly introduced. Allow me. May I present, Madam Snape." With a dramatic sweep of his hand, he indicates Miss Granger; Draco is still struggling to take it all in. "My wife, and I expect you to treat her accordingly. I believe you owe her an apology.
"Was I less than clear Friday night? Or are you simply uncertain how to properly address the wife of your Head of House?" He sounds incredibly angry now, and he's doing a fantastic job of unnerving both the young witch and wizard. "Shall I give you a hint? It's not 'Mudblood'."
Hermione turns to stare at him at that, because she's pretty sure he can only know that if he used Legilimency on her. He can't possibly have heard. Perhaps he used it on Malfoy again. If she felt uncomfortable with this whole arrangement before, she's gone beyond that now. She knows the bond will have told the Professor as much, but she has no experience with suppressing these kinds of feelings, and he doesn't miss a beat as he continues, very much the terrifying Death Eater he had told her he was.
It's so at odds with the consideration he shown her just minutes ago in the hallway that she isn't sure what to make of it.
The bond transmits that uncertainty of hers as well, and even if she doesn't begin to understand it, it encourages him to continue. Had she simply discounted him as evil, he'd probably be less invested in ensuring her safety. And that's a significant part of what he is doing.
"You, my boy," there's that inflection for 'boy' again, "don't seem to appreciate the gift you've been given. Instead of flying out of this school on your arse, you remain, and this is how you conduct yourself?
"What did I tell you about treating women appropriately? What led you to think I wasn't serious? And just how did you arrive at the conclusion my wife shouldn't be treated at least as well?" Dimly Draco notes that's objections two and three accounted for then. Severus sounds furious, and his questions are punctuated by small drops of spittle flying from his mouth. "And what on earth possessed you to think I'd stand for it? I do believe it's past time to work on those manners of yours. Such terribly poor breeding. Whatever would your mother say?
"And what part of not speaking about the events of Friday was too difficult for you to comprehend? You will not speak of them again. If you so much as hint of them to her," this accompanied by a stab of his hand towards Hermione, whom he has otherwise largely ignored. She finds herself on the verge of panicking, wishing she were anywhere else. "...Or in her presence, or encourage anyone else to do so, you will wish you had never drawn breath. Am I clear enough for you now?
"Currently, the only one paying for that remarkable bout of imbecility Friday is myself. Rest assured, that shall not remain the case." The barely controlled fury in his voice is at complete odds with what she can feel through the bond, and serves only to confuse her further.
Then in a move so sudden she couldn't follow it, he's drawn his wand, flicked it at the boy and removed his clothes, much as Madam Pomfrey does, except that the Potions Master drops them crumpled in a pile in the corner with a wet 'squish' and leaves the young Slytherin bound to the chair in nothing but his pants. The visual very clearly echoes her exposure from Friday, and she is immensely uncomfortable seeing it.
The Professor possibly isn't doing all that much better with it, and he turns his back to the blond, as though he weren't worth another glance. He looks at Hermione again for the first time since they entered the room. With another movement, he's clearly cast an Unforgiveable, the Cruciatus, on Malfoy and doesn't lift it for what seems like an age. She knows it must have been only moments, but they stretch interminably. She can't begin to imagine how long they must seem to him.
Hermione is appalled at the sight. She averts her gaze, looking at the Professor instead, their eyes lock, while in the background Malfoy twitches and screams. The Potions Master hits the boy with the Curse again, and soon enough, he's seated in a puddle of urine.
"Oh, look," he cries, directing her attention to the blond, "he's soiled himself. Shall we take a picture? Something to remember the evening by? Perhaps send Lucius a copy? How proud he must be to have such a fine..." a scornful glance at the boy's crotch is followed by a derogatory, "specimen for a son."
It's not long before Hermione hears a voice she can hardly recognise as her own begging him to stop.
"I don't believe I can, Madam Snape. He has failed to apologise. What do you say to your godmother, Draco? Hmm?" Hermione goes a particularly harsh shade of chartreuse at that tidbit. Draco looks worse. She had wondered about Professor Snape's relationship to the young man, especially since he called him 'Uncle', but never imagined they were this close. Somehow it makes the scene that much harder for her to witness.
But what really confuses her is the approval she can feel lapping through their bond. She assumed from his demeanour that he would be infuriated at her interruption, at best irritated or possibly disappointed if he actually cared about her actions. She can't imagine he does, but still... Approval makes absolutely no sense at all.
"I'm sorry!" Draco gasps, "Merlin, I'm sorry! I'll never do it again." He finishes that last on a sob, and there's no doubting his desperation. His sincerity may be another question, but Hermione is quite sure he'll wish to avoid a repeat of this evening at all costs.
"And Draco, she didn't have to come running to me to tell me of your amusing little asides. Unlike you, she understands what it means not to say a word. But thanks to your... escapades Friday, I'm now in a position to know even when she doesn't say a thing.
"Should you decide to try anything like this again, ever again, you won't leave the room under your own steam. Leave the witch be, and do rein in your idiocy, before I am required to do so for you. Have I made myself clear enough for you this time?" Draco merely nods stupidly in response, tears streaming down his face, drool covering his chin, the tremors from the Cruciatus after effects already setting in, and his pants very noticeably stained.
"Get dressed and return to your room. Now. Before I reconsider." And with that, the boy is no longer restrained in the chair and flops to the floor where he begins a torturously slow scramble for his clothes, plunked indiscriminately in a damp heap a few yards away.
Miss Granger meanwhile has turned, studiously avoiding Draco, and is staring at a portrait of a group of centaurs with a frankly disturbed expression. He doesn't know why, can't begin to guess, but suspects she spent too long staring at it Friday night and is having problems with the associated memories. True enough.
Quite a number of problems from what she's projecting.
Well, that's precisely what a practice run is good for. No better time than the present to address those issues.
A wave of his wand has the portrait detached from the wall, faculty privileges, and he shrinks it and places it in his pocket. He'll have Sunny return it to Minerva later with a note of explanation. After everything else she was willing to do to change her classroom, he's sure his colleague won't mind the liberty he's taking. Miss Granger's eyes widen as she follows his movements, but she visibly relaxes ever so slightly once the painting has disappeared from sight. He takes it for confirmation that he's handling this properly.
The young woman wants nothing more than to bolt, to run from here, leaving this classroom and the sight of Malfoy far behind her. Everything about her screams it. So naturally he can't let her. For once he isn't doing that to be difficult. It's a sensible precaution, a measure he can take now to make tomorrow easier for her.
And by extension himself, of course.
He'll keep her here a little longer, until she becomes more comfortable with both the room and the presence of her assailant. Whether it's occurred to her or not, she shares every single one of her classes with the boy. She needs to be able to get past her panic. Her fear. And it will give both of them something entirely different to associate with this room. Draco will never taunt her again.
Severus looks around the classroom once more. It seems in poor form to leave Minerva's chair in such a state, and so he Scourgifies it before magicking it back into place behind her desk. With a glance at the nervous witch to his side, he has another bit of inspiration and asks, "Where do you sit?"
Hermione neither understands the point of the question nor hesitates to even so much as consider asking about it. She simply tries to answer. She has to look around for a moment, the layout, the furniture has changed, but assuming she takes a seat at the table that's now the equivalent of the desk at which she'd sat... Biting her lower lip, she points to a spot in the middle of the front row bench to the left of Professor McGonagall's desk, "There, I suppose." She sounds every bit as unsteady as she feels, but she's holding up remarkably well all considered.
Certainly better than Draco, who is a gibbering mess, still sobbing in the corner. To be fair, the Cruciatus is no easy thing to take.
He had it coming.
Ignoring the boy, Severus crosses the room to the bench she had indicated and takes a seat. He looks at her a moment, calculating, and then absurdly slouches slightly, it seems so incongruous she thinks she's imagined it, except she hasn't, and then he draws his wand and gets to work on Minerva's chair again.
Hermione can see he's using a Charm to carve... something into the wood of the backrest, and without thinking advances to where he sits. He finishes, rises, vacates the bench and with a gesture, a wave of his hand indicates she should take a seat in his stead. When she does and looks again at Professor McGonagall's chair, she's stunned to see the left side of the chair's bannisters have now been carved. From this position, from her seat, she's looking at a perfect rendition of... Crooks.
He actually made a carving of Crooks on the chair.
She turns to him with a look of wonder, but thankfully has the foresight to refrain from saying anything too revealing in Malfoy's presence. She half leaps from the bench and tries looking at it from different angles. Only from her seat does the carving resolve into an unmistakable image of her cherished familiar. It's a stunning bit of precision and projection to make that work, and she's quite taken... With his work, of course.
He observes her very evident pleasure, and it's not a patch on what he feels through the bond. Encouraged, keeping a close eye on her for signs of distress and seeking her approval, and isn't that unexpected, he lifts his wand again and begins to work the front legs of Minerva's chair until they have echoes of the same design Miss Granger's own desk chair in their quarters has. She had liked it, he'd known that as soon as she saw it. He hopes this will give her a sense of... ownership. Make her feel more... at home in this room.
It does. He can feel it, and it drives him to continue until all four legs, both arms and stiles are done. The absurdity of that, that the association with something that only a day before had been his chair, his quarters, that that should provide her with a sense of comfort... Fortunately it doesn't occur to him in the moment. And later he'll have other things on his mind.
His efforts have the benefit of returning some of the ornamentation to the furniture that Minerva had generously been willing to forgo. And at the least, he suspects Minerva would be likely to forgive him for his presumption if it is meant to help her favourite cub.
"Would you mind, terribly, doing another?" She still sounds timid, but her appreciation of his work is overriding her fear. She gestures to the chair, and he lifts an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. "From here," she says, stopping by the door and turning back to face the room.
"What would you like?" He asks. People don't seem to be too concerned with what she likes just at the moment, and something in her responds strongly to that simple query. And something in him responds to that response, not that it shows. Much.
"If you wouldn't mind," she answers, her voice gaining confidence, "a crow. In flight. Descending." Her hand goes up to reflexively finger her pendant, it appears to be a miniature phial. Had someone offered him a considerable number of Galleons, he still wouldn't have been able to guess that as her motif of choice, and he can't begin to fathom why she'd want it. But that isn't the point of this exercise.
"Show me?" He asks turning to face her, and she shifts position coming to stand closer to him, very close to him, so he can more easily meet her eyes. He finds something... reassuring, appealing in her willingness to approach him despite the fear his performance just moments ago had so obviously engendered. She still trusts him, and that's... unexpectedly important.
A soft Legilimens later, he's incredibly gentle, and he sees what she means. He still hasn't the remotest idea why she wants it, he hadn't pried, but he knows precisely what she wants. He moves to the doorway. It's only the work of another moment, that and a slightly silly hunching to her height, that she finds anything but and that he is somehow willing to do despite her presence to witness it, Draco is in no shape to notice, to etch the crow into the right side of the square dowels that form the backrest. From this position, as she enters the room, the diving crow is visible.
Again she ducks, steps to the side, and then makes a ridiculous little hop to ascertain that if someone is taller or shorter, they won't be able to see what she sees. It's like a delicious secret. She nibbles on her lower lip, biting back her nervous smile.
He may not know it or even suspect it, but that's how she sees him. How he swooped in Friday to save her. The image provides her with some comfort. A good deal of it, in fact. Her hand closes tightly about her necklace as she looks at it and finally, finally begins to smile.
He can feel her begin to relax, and decides he's accomplished what he can here. Draco has begun to collect himself and attempt to get dressed, and it's probably for the best if they don't remain here much longer. Severus' expression clouds again, and he crosses to the table where he'd placed Draco's wand. In a move meant to demonstrate that he has nothing whatsoever to fear from the boy, he tosses the wand onto the top of his heap of clothes, clearly showing how little he cares if he's armed. It has the advantage of leaving Draco better able to help clean and dry himself in the process.
The blond looks up from the floor as he does it, not missing the usefulness of the action, and with an incredibly raw voice that breaks as he tries to speak tells him, "Thank you, Sir."
Severus nods coolly, glaring. Draco gathers what he can of his mettle, he has something crucial to say, but precious little desire to risk doing so. Still, it needs doing, and he continues, "You should know. Friday." He gulps and his eyes close, bracing for an explosion that fortunately doesn't come. "Theo asked us, told us to stop."
It dawns on him that might just have made things worse, that it might leave Theo in even more trouble, just with different people, which was hardly the point. He isn't trying to make it appear that his friend is disloyal or weak. He rephrases. "He said it wasn't very smart. We'd be caught. And we were."
Severus stands silently, observing him for a moment. Then, his lips tight, he nods again. All considered, it took some courage for the boy to speak up just now. "Duly noted," he replies with audible contempt. "See to it you're back in the dorms before curfew unless you wish to spend still more time with Mr. Filch."
Severus offers Hermione his arm, which she senses she should take for the sake of appearances, and he turns her away from this scene and leads her from the room.
When they reach the hallway and the door is firmly closed behind them, he releases her. He faces her and is surprisingly tranquil and it's very difficult to reconcile his demeanour with the emotions he had on display mere moments ago, which makes her question how much of this is real and how much theatre.
Without any malice or even the hint of reproach, he tells her, "Miss Granger, if you have any issues in the future, kindly inform me as soon as possible, so I can address them before things can get out of control. It reflects on both of us, and there are actions I shall be expected to take. Your life, my life may depend on it.
"I haven't the luxury, and by extension neither do you, to not act when required. I request that you aid me in this, and not leave me in the dark.
“But I am... hopeful that this shall take care of things for a while."
She gives him a small nod, and they turn and begin to make their way in silence back to their chambers for the evening.
But this time she finds herself walking by his side and doesn't venture from it.