“beyond wandpoint” 052 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 10o Monday - The Response”

Hermione, Ginny, Albus, Misc. Students

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Originally Published: 2018-01-17 on AO3
Chapter: 052

Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

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Ginny enters the Hall just as the initial roar is stifled, and finds herself unable to ask anyone what's going on. It's a surreal experience, which is saying something coming from the standpoint of a witch raised in a household that uses magic for virtually anything and everything, and that was home to her brothers Fred and George. Whatever the spell is, it's not like a Silencing Charm; she can't even hear the sound of her footsteps.

She makes her way through the eerie quiet to their House table. There's a space next to Hermione, but after the fight she just had with Ron and Harry, she isn't particularly eager to sit next to her. She can't help herself. She clambers into the seat across from Neville instead.


Hermione doesn't miss that Ginny had noted, and rejected, the seat beside her. Compared to the other things she's pretending leave her unaffected, being avoided is hardly worth mentioning. And the Draught helps, naturally. Greatly, in fact. She calmly keeps her gaze fixed to the far wall, ostensibly ignoring those around her as the silence ends, the invective and shouted questions resume, Professor Dumbledore bellows and they all sheepishly retake their places.


"What happened?" Ginny asks, as soon as the Headmaster's seated and she's able to be heard, trying to make sense of the things being murmured around her.

"Hermione married Snape," Seamus supplies in a loud whisper.

"Professor Snape," Hermione absently, automatically, and very quietly corrects. Fortunately no one is listening as it wouldn't have helped matters any. A larger gap has formed around her as everyone slides further away, almost as though her apparent madness could be contagious.

"I'm sorry, what?" Ginny is fairly sure she heard that wrong.

"And Kiera and Dhanesh got married too," Dean fills his ex in, still in shock and just feeling grateful that it wasn't Ginny and Harry. That would have really done his head in, he thinks, forgetting for the moment that she isn't even of age, or perhaps unaware of the laws as he's Muggle-raised. But the distinction isn't immediately obvious, as the... Devis are both sixth years like Ginny.

That the bondings were all between Muggle-born witches and wizards who aren't escapes Dean. If asked, the vast majority of the students would take Snape for a pure-blood, and Dean's no different. But he has no reason to attach any significance to the partners' blood statuses; he'd probably take it for coincidence had he noticed. Not having been told of an attack in the school, as things stand, they are utterly lacking any frame of reference for this course of action. They haven't the shimmer of an idea as to why it's happened.

"Bonded," Neville corrects, hissing from further down the table to Hermione's left, better able to understand the difference as the only pure-blood amongst the three boys.

"Wait, you did what?" Ginny asks Hermione, leaning forward and raising her voice to make herself heard past Georgina and Fay who haven't stopped muttering together since they regained the ability to do so.

"Shh!" Dean, Neville and Georgina admonish her all at once.

Ginny jumps up and slips into the seat she'd only just shunned next to Hermione.

Strangely, Hermione seems just pleased as Punch that she's now deigned to do so.


Ginny doesn't notice the cool reception, but then she now has a lot on her mind. First, this is mental. Absolutely mental. It takes her a moment to move past that.

It's really, unbelievably, truly, totally... mental.

Just...

Well... mental.


Second, there is no chance whatsoever Hermione and Harry will ever become an item, and she feels a little guilty that crossed her mind, but mostly relieved. Well, unless Snape pops his clogs that is, and then she feels a little guilty for that, too, but not nearly as much. And everyone's teasing about Hermione snatching Harry away from her should stop, which would be welcome. The teasing about Gwenog Jones was so ridiculous as to be easily ignored anyway.

So this must have been what the boys were keeping from her. Well, she's now good and angry they hadn't told her. And then they made her miss the Headmaster's speech. (She may be misremembering that.) She'll have to ask Lav or Luna for details later.

Mum's going to go spare when she hears this. Ginny will naturally owl her at first chance.

Then it dawns on her that this must be the prophecy Lav was on about, and when is Trelawney ever right? Well, except for that one time. Or that other time. But still. Which means Ron's... Oh, bugger. And she'd done rather a number on him, too. Bloody hell.

Well that's what he gets for keeping things from her.

Right now she needs to see what she can get out of Hermione. Merlin, what was she thinking?


Ginny starts peppering her with questions. As she does, the others draw closer, almost as though Accioed, voyeuristic ghouls, hoping to hear the story first hand. But Hermione isn't answering.

"Oi, you lot," Ginny tells the table in no uncertain - but carefully modulated - terms, not eager to lose House points by being too loud, "mind your p's and q's," thinking it might make Hermione more willing to speak.

The others withdraw again, fairly confident they'll come to hear the story later anyway. Experience shows they're right, Weasleys are hardly known as close-mouthed. Still, one of the fifth years thinks he might have a set of Extendable Ears in one of his pockets, and encouraged by his classmates begins a thorough but ultimately fruitless search. He'll find them tonight in his trunk, where they're doing him no good whatsoever.


None of it makes any difference. Hermione spent the weekend in the Infirmary, and not one of these people had visited her. She doesn't feel the need to tell them a thing. They don't care about her. They aren't her friends. They're just people she knows, and she doesn't need their understanding. Chances are, she wouldn't receive it no matter what they're told.

And they're only interested in her now because the story promises to be... scandalous. Possibly salacious. They're nothing but gawkers. Vultures.


It doesn't help, of course, that the Oath makes much of what she'd probably want or need to say impossible. Certainly the first several questions Ginny asks can't be answered as a result. The next few that could be answered, well, those answers would make little sense without the information Hermione can't provide. The boys at least had understood there had been an assailment, some sort of skirmish. In the absence of that piece of background... Hermione saves herself the bother of even trying to explain.

Ginny gets frustrated. It feels too much like the conversations, the arguments, she'd just had with Ron and Harry. That's hardly a coincidence, as the underlying reason is the same, not that she realises it.


Hermione's patience is also being sorely tried. She doesn't find Ginny's questions particularly original. She fails to consider any of a number of things as she just sits there, deflecting, becoming increasingly annoyed. First and foremost that that is a sign the Draught is wearing off.

But there are plenty of other aspects. Say, that some of the annoyance is definitely personal, she's grown... weary of Ginny's reticence, at least towards her, in the past months. Or that originality is hardly the point, this isn't an interview for the 'Quibbler'. Or that the obvious questions remain the same, by definition. Or that this is the fourth time she's fielded questions on her bonding, and it is in the nature of such things that they become more tedious with repetition, particularly in such a short span of time.

Or most importantly, to think about who had asked those questions. Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Harry and Ron, and now Ginny. That the order was in inverse proportion to how much the people interrogating her, that's how Hermione now sees it, knew of the incident that led to the bonding doesn't cross the young woman's mind at all. That their increasing lack of knowledge about events practically serves to the same degree as a guarantee that she can't be understood...


But Hermione can be forgiven for overlooking all of that; she, too, has rather a lot on her mind.


It only makes matters worse, naturally, that Ginny's unoriginal questions are interspersed with frankly insulting assertions. They only aggravate the situation. Hermione's stand out favourite is, "If you were thinking rationally, you wouldn't have done this." It's not quite as bad as suggesting the Professor had drugged her to achieve that irrationality, so Ron's still winning that particular competition.

Hermione may be keeping track.


Then there are the questions she can and does answer, where her answers don't seem to be credited with belief. That just frustrates the both of them even more, and makes Hermione disinclined to answer further. And begin to itemise creative hexes she could use on Ginny. It's a perfectly respectable mental exercise. She feels justified.

No, she hasn't been having a clandestine affair with Snape, Professor Snape, thank you very much...

Ginny's unwilling to believe it in the least, not in the face of a bonding, for Merlin's sake, and some contention ensues. That is until she happens to notice Hermione's ring.

Like a bird of prey, she swoops down and grabs Hermione's hand, pinning her fingers so as better to examine her ring and... laughs. She actually laughs. "That's your ring?!" She half shrieks, and is immediately rebuked from several sides for being too loud.

Hermione finds the question stupid. And probably rude. It's unclear which is the deadlier sin. Fortunately, she's still not too fussed, although she's beginning to wonder for how much longer. Better late than never. She probably should have set a Tempus.

"That's your ring?" Ginny tries again in a softer voice. It doesn't really improve the question. She studies Hermione's face for a moment before releasing her and then laughs again. "You have no idea, do you?"

She turns to her right, reaches across the table and grabs Kiera's hand, apparently that's perfectly acceptable behaviour for Ginny, the dark-haired witch looks like she finds it about as off-putting as Hermione had. Kiera's hand firmly in her grasp, Ginny tugs and extends it towards Hermione. Sure enough, a truly gaudy, and honestly sort of ugly, clunky gold affair glitters on the young woman's hand. It has as much in common with the thread of metal on Hermione's finger as a peacock does with a crow. Hermione knows which she prefers.

Kiera wrests her hand free with an irritated look, turning her back to Ginny somewhat demonstratively, and resumes the conversation she was having with some of the other sixth years and Lavender.

Hermione just shrugs at Ginny, "So?"

"So?!" It's too loud again, and again she's shushed by the others at the table. "So?" She repeats. "Ignoring the fact it's bloody sad, you do see that don't you? Ignoring that..." Yes, Ginny's doing a stunning job of ignoring that... "It doesn't mean anything good. Bondmates' rings reflect the relationship."

She pauses considering, and then goes on, "So I guess you really didn't have anything going on with... the dungeon bat." The disdain is clear in her voice and causes Hermione's hackles to rise in a subconscious urge to defend her bondmate. Fortunately, she holds her tongue. Nothing she could say would help.

The seventh year just stares at Ginny instead and blinks. Finally Hermione collects herself enough to respond dryly, "How good of you to finally believe me."

Still lost in her thoughts, Ginny proceeds as if Hermione hadn't spoken, "Or if you did, you don't care about one another..." And now Hermione suspects it's a good thing, a very good thing she has the Draught in her system. And then she wonders why she finds that so offensive, despite the potion and the fact she and the Professor clearly don't care about one another. There wasn't even the pretence of it between them. She doesn't notice her hand closing on her necklace as she contemplates this.

"Or the sex was rubbish..." Ginny continues her musings half to herself, but that somehow gets Hermione's attention. Given some of the things she's thought about in the past few days, she would have blushed thoroughly at that without the Draught. It's proving quite useful. "But then why would you bond him?

"Seriously," Ginny's at a loss, "you don't realise the significance of the ring?" Apparently she doesn't, but Hermione adds it to her research list. That's what libraries are for. "I can't believe you would do something so foolish if you don't even know the basics." And Hermione adds that to the growing list of insulting statements. Ron's still clearly in the lead, though.

Hermione may have said something, trying to get Ginny to stop her unhelpful and fairly cryptic comments about the damn ring, that serves to remind the younger witch about her brother.

Time has done a strange thing the whole while Ginny speaks to her where it stretches forever and ever like a magical elastic and the moment goes on and on and stubbornly, sadistically, refuses to end... And then just as suddenly it snaps back and is gone, over, as though it had always been.

It goes wrong, badly so. Today just seems to be the day for it.

"Poor Ron," Ginny sighs, to be fair, thinking in part about some of the horrible things she'd said to him, what? Not even an hour ago? No wonder he was in such a foul mood. She won't have helped any.

The problem, of course, is that for Hermione that's far too close to what Harry had said, was it just this afternoon? And she's having difficulty, rather a lot of it, seeing Ron as the pitiable victim in this.

Something in her snaps like that elastic.

"Why don't you go check on the boys?" She bites out, only just managing to make it sound polite enough, but the fact it's in line with Ginevra's own wishes makes it easier for her to overhear any undercurrent of anger or annoyance. With a few platitudes in parting, the redhead takes her leave to seek out her brother and Harry.

And owl her mum.


None of which was good, it definitely hadn't been enjoyable, but Hermione will soon have occasion to know what real anger is.

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As she speaks to the youngest Weasley, Albus examines Miss Granger covertly from the Head Table with some consternation. She should be distraught. Agitated at the least. He has no explanation for what he sees, she's a picture of tranquility...

And then he has to laugh at himself. The young woman is bonded to an incredibly competent Potions Master. Her state was undoubtedly easy to achieve.

Blast.

Well, he can't win them all.


He had quite expected the circumstances of the announcement to trigger the Protection Vow, and most publicly at that. He's positive it wouldn't have been pleasant for either of the parties, that was never in question, but then he's equally positive it won't be whenever it does manifest, and it most assuredly will.

This isn't about what's pleasant. He couldn't give a flying... Fudge about pleasant. This is a safe environment, no harm would have come to either of them here. Well, beyond what happened Friday, he amends ruefully. But it would have taught them both how sensitive such a Vow is to the triggering conditions, an extremely valuable lesson. And it would have afforded them all with a very visible demonstration of that Vow in action.

Whether either of them would prefer it or not, having the Slytherin students here to witness it meant some could be counted on to report about it to their parents, and that should have provided Miss Granger and Severus with some corroboration for the story the Professor will be forced to tell.

Albus had hoped that might serve to dissuade certain parties from... testing it on their own.

It can't be helped. He'll need to come up with a different plan.