“beyond wandpoint” 004 by gingerbred
Mar. 19th, 2019 02:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 07b Friday - Dealing with Draco”
... harshly.
Severus, Hermione, and Draco
Originally Published: 2017-11-07 on AO3
Chapter: 004
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
When he re-enters the room, there's only Draco and the young woman left.
The moans, undeniably erotic in tone, she had increasingly been making have progressed. The potion, no question. Her humiliation's complete. His isn't far behind. He had overlooked it, knowing he was Obliviating one and all. But she's not going to be thankful for the noises she's making now. Her embarrassment, in fact, is currently in evidence, her cheeks a flaming red, and shouldn't be were the potion properly brewed. Small mercies, perhaps that bought her some time earlier. He's uncomfortable just listening.
When she switches from moans to cries, demanding that he, they, anyone fuck her, he flicks a Muffliato in her direction, more difficult to cast on others and definitely so when silently, raises his mental tally to thirty-eight spells, and sighs. He has no idea how much more he can do. She's begun wriggling underneath his cloak, and it's in danger of slipping down. He is sure the last thing he wishes to see is her straining against her bonds at the moment, and he moves to her back to close the clasp behind her neck like an enormous bib.
When his fingers brush her heated skin in the process, he snatches them away as though burned, mission only just accomplished. He's positive she just tried to lean into his touch.
He circles back wearily around her and crouches down to below her eye level, and speaking as gently as he can tells her, "Miss Granger, you have been given a potion. It and it alone is solely to blame for your physiological response, it is involuntary and you should think no more of it. I shall not." That's a lie, a kindness, certainly, but a blatant lie. Right now all he wants is a mental Scourgify. "The shame for that rests squarely on the shoulders of whomever forced it upon you." The look he casts in Draco's direction is positively hate-filled. She finds it completely unexpected but greatly appreciates it.
"I am quite certain it will pass harmlessly in time, but that process can be accelerated with the administration of activated charcoal."
In response to her furrowed eyebrows, he smirks slightly, anticipating her question, even under these circumstances. "A bezoar will not work, Miss Granger. The potion is not a poison and as such has no magical antidote. But the charcoal will help with the absorption, both minimising the effects and speeding your recovery. Are you comfortable with taking something I give you?"
She nods desperately, cheeks crimson with shame, tears in the corners of her eyes. He summons the charcoal from his undetectably extended pockets (thirty-nine) and feeds her the tablets. Her lips are still moving and he is exceedingly thankful that he has no idea what she's saying, going by the depth of her blush response. She tries to nibble his fingers as he feeds her the tablets, and again he flinches away as though scalded. Still, he gives her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze meeting her eyes, "Hang in there just a little longer. The worst is over, and this will pass soon."
He's irritated that he wasn't able to give it to her directly, taken orally the process is slowed, but he doesn't trust himself to place it properly in her stomach with his magic right now. With the exceptions of the Legilimens and Obliviates, he has avoided all spells that require precision tonight, and both of those have been rather ham-fisted by his standards. The boys are lucky his standards are so high, or a brain or two would have been reduced to gruel by now.
Again he rises, stalks from the room, pauses at the door and releases Draco (forty). "Mr. Malfoy, join me." The tone is malevolent ice. Draco doesn't hesitate, and rushes to join him in the hallway, stumbling just a little on the way as his legs come to terms with moving after having been frozen immobile so long. This time Severus doesn't close the door. He leans it to, leaving it slightly ajar, so that she can hear what is being said and know for certain that she isn't being fed a different version later. Transparency, he feels, is the only approach in this foul solution.
There's nothing to be done for it. A Notice-Me-Not is quickly managed. He considers for a moment if he can skip the Muffliato, but decides that he can't afford to get careless now. It's exceedingly tricky, as he needs to extend it to include the young woman inside the room for this one. And he needs to maintain her Muffliato as well. All silently. Forty-two, then. And onwards.
He performs a much weaker, and silent, Legilimens on Draco than he had on the other boys, knowing he won't be Obliviating anywhere near as much, he can't afford for this one to be more than very superficial. It's no less strenuous thanks to the precision required. He's exhausted. He may have underestimated the magic necessary to sort the boy. But the scan is sufficient to see that this whole incident stemmed from an unmitigated fury towards Potter and Weasley, as expected, and that Draco had indeed originally intended for it to end with her in that chair for her friends and Head of House to find. In light of the severity of Draco's injuries last year, Severus isn't even convinced this can fairly be seen as an escalation of the boys' feud. Had it remained as initially conceived, that is.
That it took on some very ugly overtones, he supposes, is a natural consequence of the atmosphere outside of the school. This is exactly what he himself was battling against with the adult Death Eaters, these boys' parents, only a few hours before. It is hardly surprising that events beyond the gates would spill over into the school. It also is no coincidence that it was Crabbe's son who had the potion or pushed this course of action. Vile man; increasingly loathsome boy.
And thinking of loathsome boys... There are precisely four reasons Severus won't eviscerate the blond trembling before him. First and foremost, naturally, the Unbreakable Vow that means Severus' certain death and ultimate failure against Voldemort were he to do so. And still he's sorely tempted; that says much. Then there's the fact Draco never intended for this to escalate. And the living nightmare his home life has become. And finally the improbable, albeit typically rude, warning Draco had issued to Potter and Granger at the Quidditch World Cup years ago to leave once the Death Eaters attacked.
Their personal relationship would not have stayed his hand.
But none of that means he's going to go easy on him.
He withdraws from Draco's mind and sets about the Obliviate. This too is less extreme, but more precise. He removes the memories of the young woman's squirming and her moans, he can't bear to leave them, Draco had no right to ever hear them, and his own application of the charcoal from Draco's mind. His Legilimency was light enough to have left no trace. Everything else will have to stand as is. He rounds on the boy in pure fury, lifting the Langlock (forty-five), "Would you care to explain your thought process here, if any."
Draco is smart enough not to answer, and as the moment stretches, Severus attacks again, "What is the logical consequence of your actions?" Again he is met by silence.
Severus picks up speed. "If you are expelled, how do you propose to complete the Dark Lord's task? And what a stroke of unparalleled genius it was to have involved all of the other boys," it sounds more like something he'd like to scrape from the sole of his boot, "in this bit of flagrant stupidity. How utterly magnificent to have the entire male upper class of our house potentially decimated in one evening. No other house has ever dealt us as severe a blow as you have managed in the course of what, hours? Truly impressive.
"And whatever shall we tell your parents? Ah, and what will you tell the Dark Lord when he asks why you are no longer of use to him? Do you think he will even give you time to answer? Do you deserve it? He'll most likely Avada you on the spot. Crucio should be the least of your worries, I'd think, but then, you've become accustomed to it, I suppose... Perhaps you've come to like it? Shall we test that and see?"
Draco still says nothing, cowering miserably before his irate Head of House. Severus may as well have left the Langlock in place for all the difference it made.
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Clearly I can't allow that to happen. Any of it. So I shall do my level best to ensure that you are not cast from the school on your oh so prominent arse. Not that you are deserving of this effort. Your actions this evening have been beyond reprehensible; the sight of you disgusts me. If you have issues with Potter and Weasley, I fully expect you to sort them, with them, not innocent thirds, regardless of blood status, and I damn well expect you not to get caught.
"We haven't enough house points for me to remove to ever make myself clear. And I refuse to let the house suffer for your incomparable stupidity. You have detention with Filch every Saturday night until the end of the school year. But you may start with all day tomorrow and Sunday, just to get into the swing of it. If that still proves insufficient to moderate your behaviour, I'll happily increase it at a later date. Perhaps tack on an eighth year solely to serve the term of your punishment? Hmm?
"And if I ever see you behaving in an untoward fashion towards a female classmate again, Mr. Malfoy, the pieces in which I shall leave you will be so small and so scattered, they'll never recover more than a thimbleful. Have I made. Myself. Clear?"
He has a problem. Several, really, but right now it occurs to him that he needs to find a way to ensure that when the others wake tomorrow with their Legilimency induced headaches, Draco won't be left wondering why he's been spared. Arguably, and easily at that, the boy is the one who should be the worst off both in terms of what he deserves and the treatment he would expect from his Head of House. Severus needs to cover up the discrepancy, and additionally he has no desire to let Draco think he's going to walk away from this unscathed.
He also has a dangerously low level of reserves left. A Stupefy would be easier, but stunning is unfortunately out of the question, as it will just prolong this débâcle, and he desperately needs to free the young witch and get to the Infirmary soon. Drawing on his last reserves, he opts for a non-verbal Levicorpus, hoping the fact it's a spell of his own devising means it might prove less taxing to his magic. In a blink he's suspended the boy upside down by his ankle and then swung him solidly into the nearest wall. A resounding and decidedly satisfying 'thwack' or three later, he releases the boy with a Liberacorpus to crumple into a heap on the floor. Forty-seven. And counting.
"You will return to your room, and do not speak of the events of this evening to anyone," he virtually hisses at the boy as Draco struggles to his feet. With any luck he'll have a concussion to show for it. And a shiner. "It is perhaps your only chance to remain in these halls. You may rest assured the Headmaster already knows what transpired, the walls have eyes and ears," he looks about significantly, indicating the portraits, although they are merely one of many methods by which Dumbledore would come to know of this, Severus himself not least amongst them. No need to tell that to the boy.
"I have Obliviated the others. The have no memory of the events of this evening. None at all, and you are not ever to discuss this with them, or anyone else unaware of the facts. Your Oath." The boy complies. Magic flares. His fortunately. Severus continues, "There will be repercussions, make no mistake. The less this is spoken of, the more this can be swept under the rug, the safer you will be. Do try to minimise your stupidity towards this end.
"I shall do what I can for you." With that, he points his wand at the boy and unleashes a particularly brutal Scourgify. As a spell conceived for scouring pots and pans, it's not the least bit pleasant when turned unchecked on human skin. The blood is gone, the lad thoroughly pink and abraded. Forty-eight. Severus is barely still standing, but that was very much worth it.
"Now go. Get out of my sight."