“beyond wandpoint” 058 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 10-11a Mon - Tues - Sorting Severus”

Poppy, Hermione, Severus (in repose), Filius, Dhanesh and Kiera Devi, mentioned: Seamus, Ron, Dean

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Originally Published: 2018-02-17 on AO3
Chapter: 058

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

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Poppy is just seeing Filius and the Devis off at the door to the Infirmary. "Mr. Devi, I want to see you back here no later than Friday, do you understand? I mean it, young man. It won't be at all good for your skin in the least to leave... that in place too long in a single stretch," her hand waves indicating his tail. She sighs. "It really would be wiser to just have your sister teach you the Charm, you know. Madam Devi, I'm relying on you to see that he comes back here, we're clear?"

A sheepish duet of 'Yes, Madam Pomfrey's and a round of 'Thank you's is her answer. Poppy's doing her best to appear stern. Fortunately, she's an old hand.

Filius chuckles, "I'll see them safely back to the Tower. It is after curfew after all." The affectionately exasperated look he gives the couple would suggest that's not his only concern. He'd like to know they actually returned to the Gryffindor dormitories. His suspicion is not without grounds; Filius is an old hand, too. "Good night, Poppy, and thanks again for your help. Come along, you two."

Having determined that the tail, while not quite prehensile, can be controlled with reasonable accuracy, the young couple had begged the Charms Master, between giggles, to leave it in place for a couple of days once he finally established the proper Counter-charm. The Mediwitch is quite certain she couldn't say whatever for. She shakes her head in amusement. Ah, to be young again. Or on one's honeymoon. Preferably both.

She closes the door, warding it for the night, and turns again to her domain. Mr. Finnigan had been quickly restored, and was long since dispatched back to his House. Why Mr. Weasley kept those confounded Pastilles about without the antidote is an interesting question, and it might have influenced her decision to keep him in the Infirmary for the night.

She knows how much he enjoys her gruel for breakfast.

Both boys are regulars in her care, and she won't half miss them when they graduate at the end of the year. Mr. Finnigan had come up with some highly... creative ways to blow things up during his tenure as a student there, and had single-wandedly caused quite the uptick in Burn-healing Paste consumption. Both for himself and others.

As to the evening's misadventures, Mr. Weasley's head had been shrunk without much ado with a combination of a Reducio and a Deflating Draught. His headache was pronounced, but hardly unexpected. It was probably a fair measure worse than need be anyhow, as he had insisted on bellowing about like a unbridled loon. It was a wonder everyone else didn't have a headache to match at that volume.

Considering the condition of Mr. Thomas' skin, however, she's not certain she should feel all too sorry for the ginger. The poor Thomas boy was peppered with lesions from top to tail now that the boils had receded. He definitely won't be in classes tomorrow. But with a little luck, and copious amounts of Scar Scarcefying Salve, he won't be marked by the altercation.

She'll never understand what gets into these children.

A few more swoops, arcs and flicks of her wand have the sleeping boys' curtains closed and wards set around them for the night. She'll be alerted if they need her before morning. She has a few things left to attend to in her office before she retires for the night, and is about to withdraw to the little room off the Infirmary's entrance when she's surprised by a figure that emerges, seemingly from nowhere, behind her.

"Goodness, Miss... Madam Snape. This is certainly the night for Gryffindors. Where did you come from?" Hermione blinks at being addressed like that. She may have used the name herself to make a point... And so had the Professor... Well, fine, and Malfoy had used it to taunt her, but this is the first time someone has just... called her by that name conversationally without some kind of prompting, and it's... It will take some getting used to, she decides.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I didn't mean to startle you, but we're back again."

"Whatever happened? Was there a relapse, wasn't he sufficiently healed?" The Mediwitch runs through the possibilities in her mind, already shifting to work mode.

"Only if the same people treating him in much the same fashion can be counted as a relapse." Hermione has no words, nothing with which to describe her revulsion at the things she felt through the bond tonight. She's hiding behind sarcasm, but it's a weak disguise.

"But he's only just left here!" Hermione smiles inwardly at that bit of faulty logic. She's had some of that the past few days herself. She thinks it's how the mind fails to deal with certain shocks. There have certainly been plenty of those recently.

"They don't seem to care about that much." Her grimace is wry. "Or maybe he just missed your company." She can't help thinking it certainly wasn't the Infirmary food, but wisely keeps that to herself.

"Where is he then?"

She leads the older witch back to his room where she performs a number of scans. Hermione watches closely, taking in as much as possible. Somewhere in the back of her mind is the suspicion that this might become a regular thing. But she's also sure that things will be getting worse in the war long before they get better, and these seem very much like useful skills to have. She wonders, not for the first time, why this isn't part of the regular curriculum. She certainly finds it more useful than flying around on a stupid broomstick. It's not like anyone ever needed Quidditch to survive. And don't get her started on Divination...

The procedure is much the same as it had been Friday night. Diagnostic spells are cast in a flurry, clothes are removed, potions come flying, Healing Charms follow. Poppy is a marvel in her element, far too frequently dismissed as 'just' a school nurse. Severus regularly provides her with real challenges, and in the past few years, they have increased in difficulty. And just how many mediwitches today can claim to have treated basilisk patients?

Once the Matron's actions slow, and the Professor is presumably stabilised, Hermione asks after his prognosis.

"Well, I guess you're next of kin now." Hermione pails a little at that, but has a growing suspicion the woman enjoys a spot of fun teasing her about that. Certainly her not being next of kin hadn't stopped the witch from telling her about the Professor's condition over the weekend. Once again, she has the good sense to keep that to herself.

"He's stable. Not out of the woods yet, but stable. He'll probably make it. That's mostly luck again, although it was a very good thing you got him here so quickly. And of course he's too stubborn to die." The Matron seems to hide behind snark much like Hermione does, but it isn't robust and it's hard to maintain, and her worry is readily apparent. "But coming this soon on the heels of last time... It isn't good. It isn't good at all. He won't be in classes tomorrow, that's for sure."

Hermione can't help thinking she would have been in that class. Before she had to drop it this morning, that is. How quickly things change.

The Mediwitch waves her wand and soon has the Professor in pyjama bottoms, leaving his torso bare. Hermione couldn't explain it, but somehow she finds his state more revealing than she had just a moment ago when he was lying there in nothing but his pants. It's probably because the emergency has passed, and her adrenaline level has crashed drastically. Another few wand flicks and Charms, and he's tucked in with his naked chest half exposed and his arms resting on top of the coverlet.

"I guess I should let the Headmaster know. He'll need to make arrangements." The Matron looks down at her patient again, tucks a strand of hair behind one of his ears and sighs, "Some wedding present that was."

She turns and leaves the room, and shortly Hermione can hear her Flooing the Headmaster to update him on the situation. Hermione just stands there staring at the man stretched out before her. Her... bondmate. She stops to think how very nearly she just became a... widow.

She's shocked and appalled at his condition, once again more than a little contrite, knowing their bonding was the reason for this. The bond that's supposed to keep her safe. She still can't quite believe that it does much if anything for him, which naturally intensifies those feelings of guilt. There's not much anyone could say to her right now to convince her otherwise. It may come with time.

Madam Pomfrey returns to the room, sees the young woman wrestling with her perceived culpability and decides to give her a break. Not unkindly she tells her, "He's had worse."

Hermione just shakes her head sadly, "That's not comforting in the least."

"It's just unfortunate, and risky of course, that it comes so closely after the last bout."

"'Bout'? You make it sound like a sickness."

The Matron just looks her in the eyes and asks, "How can you doubt there's sickness behind this?" Now it's Madam Pomfrey's turn to shake her head, the moment of whimsy passed. "But they won't have known how badly off he was after dealing with the boys. This was probably unintentional."

Hermione seems almost near tears. "That really doesn't make it better." She is horrified at the casual indifference they seem to have to almost killing him. Repeatedly.

The last few days have been exceptionally... No. They have been exceptional. Full stop. Highly unusual. A horrific roller coaster ride. She's been attacked, nearly... nearly raped, presumably nearly gang raped, and that's the first time she's even been able to think those words since, rescued, bonded, nearly widowed, and in the process of that last, exposed to torture through their bond, the like of which she couldn't previously conceive.

It's about to catch up to her.

Fortunately, Poppy is by her side, and recognises the signs. She steers the young woman into a chair beside Severus' bed, sits her down and Summons a Calming Draught. The young witch is an easy patient, she doesn't grumble or cavil, like some, Poppy thinks with a glance towards the unconscious man, she just accepts the Potion she's given, quaffs it and waits for it to take effect.

Poppy takes advantage of the moment to fuss a bit over Severus. No one else does. She's convinced it helps, and he'd certainly never hold still for it if he were conscious. But then that's half the problem, that he is all too often in her presence and not conscious.

She does her level best for him, as she has done for most of the past twenty-six years. She tucks him in, Charms the sweat from his brow, fluffing his hair in that way that caught Hermione's eye as amusing. She still finds it vaguely so, despite the circumstances. Poppy then strokes his face and holds his hand, coming to rest in a second chair she's Summoned to the other side of his bed.

Hermione can't help staring at this display. The familiarity the Matron exhibits... She suspects the Professor is a regular here.

Madam Pomfrey misinterprets the young woman's look, or perhaps she's back to teasing her, and tells her, "You don't need to look at me so suspiciously. I've no designs on your husband."

And again Hermione finds herself blinking at the Matron's choice of words. Hermione has in fact been hiding in her thoughts behind the terms 'bond' instead of 'marriage', 'bondmate' instead of 'husband'. But she's beginning to understand Madam Pomfrey's sense of humour, which should help if she's to be a regular here, too.

The Matron continues, more reassuringly this time, "The Vow wouldn't let me anyway. Yours, not mine." Hermione looks extremely uncomfortable at that phrasing, the Professor most definitely not hers, not even her professor any more, and the Mediwitch tries again, "Your Vow? Not my Vow?"

When Hermione looks even more unsure about that, Madam Pomfrey stops to consider the Muggle-born witch possibly might not know what she's talking about. More than a little concerned that no one filled her in prior to her taking her Vows, the Matron explains, "The Fidelity Vow wouldn't let me hold his hand if I were truly interested in him. It would hurt. Me. Not him. Well, and him, too, of course, but only if he reciprocated that interest.

"Did no one explain any of this to you?" Hermione's widened eyes answer that rather succinctly.

"Oh, dear." She considers a bit and then tries to explain, "Well, more than just sexual relations are affected by a Fidelity Vow. There can be no impropriety. No inappropriate interest. Were either of you to care for anyone else, in that manner, there would be a degree of discomfort attached to any affection demonstrated. The effects are not always symmetrical between the bonded, I believe, but usually. Unlike your Protection or Loyalty Vows, but it depends on what you included and how it was phrased."

Frankly, Poppy thinks it was much the same, she's fairly sure of it even, but she'd be extremely hard pressed to recall the precise wording. She hadn't thought to memorise the phrasing. Whatever for? Honestly, that was hardly her job. "Did the Headmaster really not explain this..." Hermione's look is worrying, and Poppy is glad she's already taken a Calming Draught. This is definitely not a conversation she'd like to have with her without it.

"The greater the degree of interest, the less the Vow allows." She sounds almost hopeful, as though at any moment Hermione will recognise something familiar and there will be no more need to explain all of this. It would almost be funny, if they weren't discussing an unalterable Vow.

"So if you were particularly interested in someone else, perhaps it wouldn't allow you to hold hands. But if the interest were very mild, you could conceivably buss their cheek with no ill effects. The same is true of someone who shows interest in you. The more interest, the less the Vow and your bond permit."

Hermione sits there shell shocked. She can't believe she didn't know any of this. It's not that this makes such a big difference. It probably doesn't. Although if it turns out she can no longer be affectionate with her friends, she'll be displeased. But it illustrates perfectly how little she knows about something she's done, and yet she had taken irreversible action. She's wondering what else she doesn't know. It's extremely out of character, and she finds that very worrying. It's not like her, at all, and she's giving serious thought to how she got here.

Her thoughts about the Headmaster are less than complimentary at the moment.


Satisfied that she's cleared that up sufficiently for the young woman, the Matron returns to her original point, "Touch." Hermione has trouble for a minute following her. "It helps to heal faster. Faster and better. People always underestimate it. The more touch, the more caring, the faster they heal."

She looks a little sad, and then thinks for just a moment before deciding to say what she does next, that's how sure she is that she's right to do so. "I don't think there's much of that in his life. And what of it there is, is almost exclusively to cause pain. That's not good for him. It's not good for anybody." She's stroking his face again. It's obvious she cares. Hermione takes that as a good sign that her own friendships won't necessarily be impacted before thinking about the Matron's words. And then she feels a sharp stab of guilt that she was worried how this affects herself.

Poppy's not sure it's her place to have said anything. She knows with certainty her patient would never thank her for it. But she's also realised something fundamental about their bond, ironically before either of the two affected by it, although she would readily agree that they are both more intelligent than she is. The bond means ultimately they'll need to be there for each other, because there will never be any others. Unfortunately, she's fears it won't be a good thing when they finally figure that out. She can only hope she's wrong about that.


"What about your Vows?" Hermione asks, disturbing the Mediwitch's musings, eager as ever to learn if someone is willing to instruct.

"Hmm?" The Matron queries, Summoning a small jar of what seems to be Scar Scarcefying Salve. She removes the top and sets about applying the Salve to the Professor's chest. Hermione can't seem to take her eyes off the Mediwitch's progress.

"You said my Vows, not yours, affect touch. What are your Vows?"

"I thought your Muggle healers took Vows too?" She's moved on to applying the salve to his stomach now, and Hermione makes a concerted effort to stop staring.

She smiles instead, thinking about her parents taking a Hippocratic 'Vow', as though the word would make a difference, and replies, "Something like that."

"Well so do our healers, mediwitches and nurses. It's basically a Wizard's Oath binding certain spells. Permitting certain applications and forbidding others under threat of very severe penalties." Hermione hasn't a clue what she means.

Fortunately, her face reveals that just as clearly as every other thought that crosses her mind.

"Administering Potions directly, for example. Straight to another person's stomach or bloodstream. I can, with certain limitations, you couldn't, even if you mastered the spell. At the same time the Vow narrowly restricts what I can administer. Nothing that would leave you worse off, if you follow. Not knowingly, anyway," she chuckles. "Mistakes have been known to happen.

"There was that unfortunate cure for Spattergroit which did more harm than good during the last major outbreak a century ago, but it was an honest mistake. And of course no Vow will protect you from an incompetent healer.

"Here, help me with his back, would you?" The Matron levers him up and pushes him carefully towards the young witch and then indicates for Hermione to brace him in that position. "It's alright. Come, be a love." Hermione hesitantly does as she asks, cautiously grabbing his upper arms to prop him up as the Mediwitch continues applying the Salve to the man's equally scarred back.

Hermione must look incredibly ill at ease, because the Matron chuckles and tries to reassure her, "You needn't worry. He won't wake while we're doing this. I gave him something to make sure he sleeps. He shouldn't wake until lunch tomorrow. He needs the rest."

"I'm not sure his not waking while we're doing this actually makes it any better. That's not really the point. The point is I'm pretty sure he wouldn't approve, either way." Revulsion is a hard thing to forget, and the thought of his weighs on her heavily as she holds him.

"Well, it needs doing, and I've only the two hands." Were she a little sharper, perhaps Hermione would ask what the Matron normally does, but she's distracted. She has good cause. "Consider yourself deputised. Drafted. Conscripted into service, if it helps your conscience any." When the young woman still doesn't appear particularly encouraged by that, she tries a different approach.

"He frequently doesn't want things he needs. As much as I'd wish it were otherwise, he can't always be depended upon to make the best decisions for himself, and if I wish to treat him successfully, properly, I can't always do as he wants."

Hermione gives that some thought as she watches the Mediwitch work on the unconscious man. Personally, she thinks that probably should be left up to him, but she understands the Matron only too well. She has a little experience herself with making decisions for other people's benefit. Whether they like it or not.

She finally finds the courage to ask, "Why he does have so many scars?" She can feel the scar she still bears from the fight in the Department of Mysteries sort of pull and itch beneath her top as she thinks of it. Magic seems able to heal so many injuries without any trace, but some stubbornly remain. She wonders about the nature of his scars that they're still so visible.

The Matron's answer isn't quite what Hermione was expecting. "He doesn't always stay put to be properly treated.

"You understand what he does, what he sometimes has to do for the Order?" Hermione's lips are tight as she nods, her expression pained. She's acutely aware that she doesn't actually know much about it, but she now has an inkling. That's probably sufficient for Madam Pomfrey's purposes.

Poppy, as the person treating Severus, or trying to anyhow, probably has one of the most accurate impressions of what the wizard faces of any outside You-Know-Who's inner circle, second only to Albus. Arguably, perhaps even more so than Albus. She may not always be able to itemise the Curses cast, but she can probably catalogue the injuries better than the poor victim himself. And she has a long memory for these things.

"I believe he sometimes rejects care because he doesn't feel he deserves it." Poppy waits and allows that to sink in before she continues.

"I can promise you this, Madam Snape, I would never permit you to do something I wasn't convinced was in his best interests. And I certainly wouldn't encourage it. Does that put your mind to rest?"

Poppy's instincts are good, very good, and on occasion Severus does indeed reject treatment because he feels what he stood by and allowed to happen, what he idly watched, and worse, sometimes what he had done, precluded any right to treatment, to having his pain alleviated. He really does think he deserves to suffer. But she's not absolutely correct about his motivations for reasons she doesn't begin to comprehend. She can't truly picture his world, although she does have a far clearer view than most, and as so often when people differ, the truth lies somewhere in between his views and hers.

Hermione nods her agreement, and continues to assist the Mediwitch in the Professor's care. But Hermione's hesitance will prove to be a good thing. It puts a damper on her normally overly... enthusiastic nature. In this constellation, that can only be advantageous.

Once the Matron finishes applying the Salve, the two witches lay the man gently back down upon the bed. The Matron again arranges his arms over his blanket and gives him a sympathetic and slightly doting smile he'd probably never stand for were he conscious. Clearly a benefit to him lying for it then, as well as his de facto obliviousness to her care. At least there's that...

Now that she's no longer battling her mixed emotions about helping to treat the Professor, Hermione's thoughts return to her conversation with the Mediwitch, "I'm almost afraid to ask. What did the Spattergroit 'cure' do?"

"It seems those to whom it was given grew gills. And scales. And webbing between their fingers. And apparently their legs transformed into tails... Frankly, there was nothing for it, they had to take to the water. Still, it sorted the Spattergroit, so it wasn't a complete failure."

"I could see where it wasn't considered a resounding success, though." Hermione sounds somewhat mortified. She'll never grow used to the way witches and wizards shrug these things off like nothing more consequential than just another rainy day. In the United Kingdom, she should add.

"Oh, no, no one would argue that it was. Of course not. Actually, there are rumours that's essentially how the first Selkies came to be millennia ago. They're different to the southern Merpeople after all. But the point remains, the Healers' Vows couldn't prevent it, one way or another.

"Many of the Healing Charms are similarly limited. I taught you the Discerno, not simply because it's one of the easier Diagnostic Charms to learn, but also because it's one of the best ones that isn't restricted in its use. You are able to perform it, anyone is, on someone who isn't formally your patient or for whom you haven't got permissions."

"Permissions?"

"Well, anything else would be too revealing, wouldn't it now? People can't walk around checking what their neighbours have eaten for lunch, or when they last had a spot of how's your father, for that matter. Goodness, no. And just imagine if the Mister and Missus had different results." Hermione's eyes widen, but she bites her lip and doesn't interrupt the Matron. She's far more likely to learn more that way. Poppy still catches her expression, lets out an amused chuckle, and amends the statement, slightly mindful of propriety. "Wouldn't do at all to know who was cheating... on their diets.

"So there are so-called 'permissions' which some Charms require in order for them to be used at all. Say between medical witches and wizards and their patients. And only those who take Vows are even taught certain spells. Those very same Vows preclude teaching those Charms to anyone who hasn't.

"Or there are other relationships which grant similar permissions." Not for the first time, Poppy thinks they do their Muggle-born and -raised pupils a disservice not teaching these things. Really, who puts together their syllabi? But Quidditch is clearly so much more important. It would never do not to be able to break every single bone in their little bodies from the tender age of twelve on.... Rolanda's a lovely woman, truly, but really. Quidditch.

"A parent can give their child medicinal Potions directly until adulthood, although they usually choose not to out of fear. The parents could have practiced on one another first, of course, permissions can be granted within a marriage, but not many expectant couples think to prepare that way, and by the time they might, it's too late in the process. No one wants to experiment like that with a highly pregnant or nursing witch. And then routine takes over. They become accustomed to seeking out a healer.

"Now why the wizard isn't subjected to it, I surely couldn't begin to say. And yet oddly enough, they seldom are. I've always suspected it's because they're worse patients and bigger cowards," looking down at Severus, she tucks his hair behind his ear and adds, "very definitely excepting present company in that generalisation.

"Although he is a dreadful patient, just so we're clear. Perfectly dreadful." It's hard to reconcile the woman's tender smile with the word 'dreadful', but it somehow fits.

She gives Severus' bare shoulder a squeeze in parting and excuses herself to tend to some things in her office, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.


Sadly, her thoughts aren't great.


The Calming Draught helps, beyond doubt, but without the Matron to distract her, staring at the unconscious man in the bed next to her keeps driving her back to the same conclusions. They shouldn't have done this. The only thing she feels she knows for sure about their Vows at the moment is that they are responsible for his lying there. And that's entirely her fault.

It might not have gotten out of hand, but given what the bond had shared with her before, she can't shake it off.

It escapes her entirely that he could have said 'No'. Or that the Headmaster needn't have pushed this agenda. Or certainly not so quickly, before the Professor was fully recovered. Right now, late in the night, seated next to the man she... married, who still might not survive the night, all she can think is she put him here.

---

When Poppy returns to the room a while later, she realises she underestimated the witch's condition before. She has no trouble accurately assessing Madam Snape's shape now, and despite the Calming Draught, it's concerning. Or particularly in light of it. She retakes her seat on the other side of Severus' bed, once again taking his hand and stroking the hair out of his face, and resolves to try to help the young woman out of what seems to be a spiral of guilt.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Poppy tends to be more matter-of-fact than gentle, but she does her best. Madam Snape appears not to notice much, either way.

"We never should have done it," Hermione answers, rather unclearly, but Poppy understands her immediately.

"Of the three individuals involved in the decision making process for the bonding, I would consider you the least to blame for it."

Hermione mulls that over for a bit. She's inclined to agree, in part, and yet somehow it still doesn't seem to absolve her from her share of the responsibility. She just can't get past that.

Poppy can read that clearly in her face as well. She decides to try again, in much the same vein as before, perhaps revealing things she possibly shouldn't, but that she expects will help her two patients, for she recognises that both need her help. That's clearly her primary responsibility. She consoles herself that as next of kin, she'd be entitled to share certain information with the young woman anyway, as if it mattered.

"There was almost no chance he wouldn't have pushed you to go through with this, Madam Snape."

"But he didn't. He tried to talk me out of it."

"In the short term. Had you decided against, I feel certain he would have tried to talk you round. Given time, I'm quite sure the result would have been the same."

"Given time," Hermione sounds far too agonised for someone with a Calming Draught in her system, "the results would surely have been different. Half the problem is the state he was in when they got him in their claws again."

There's no arguing with that. It's true. But what the poor witch doesn't seem to realise is just how frequently that occurs. Any given amount of time after one round of torture is merely a variable time period before the next round. It's an irregular cycle, but a cycle nevertheless, and it's been shortening, happening more and more frequently of late. Poppy decides to keep that to herself for now. She doesn't think Madam Snape can handle that knowledge just yet.

Poppy Accios another Calming Draught, intending to adjust the dosage, and again Hermione takes it without complaint.

"Had he been in better shape, they simply would have treated him worse. He wasn't cut to ribbons this time, for which we can be grateful, and that won't have been a coincidence. Regardless of his condition at the outset, in light of the news he had to deliver, you can be reasonably certain his condition when he returned would have been much the same."

"All the more reason not to have done this!" There's no mistaking the sincerity of the witch's feelings, but Poppy can tell, the Draught is already taking the edge off of them. Her patient is less worked up than before.

"Madam Snape, had you declined, he would have worked until you were convinced."

"He's not the one who convinced me. The Headmaster was the one who prevailed upon me to do this..."

"And again, Madam Snape, I can assure you, had you refused, and Severus truly believed you were in danger, he would not have quit until you were persuaded. And after what I saw of your state Friday night, how could he not believe it? Trust me, this ending was a foregone conclusion."

"He can hardly go around bonding the female half of the student body to keep them safe," Hermione immediately objects, obviously irritated. "That solution, as I understand it, works a grand total of once."

Poppy's lips purse for the briefest of moments before she simply blurts out the frightening truth. It may be scary, but she senses it will provide a different sort of comfort as well. "He wouldn't need to, Madam Snape. In all my years here, and Merlin knows they've been quite a few, yours was the only... case I've ever heard of, thank the gods. The only one. No one else currently appears to be as much at risk as you do.

"And now you aren't. He would not have been able to remain idle given the ability to act. He couldn't."

She's right that it gives the young woman pause. She blinks owlishly for a bit before rejoining, "Why on earth is that his problem?"

"Don't underestimate what it means to him to be able to affect a positive outcome. Much of what he does means he has to remain inactive and bear witness to things no one should ever have to see. And that's when he isn't forced to act contrary to his very nature and participate. Beyond a doubt, this bonding, the limitations it brings, and your safety, will provide him with a great deal of comfort."

"Always assuming he survives, of course." Hermione's tone sounds petulant, but then she's more than a little sullen and frankly exhausted. But the Matron's words echo things the Potions Master had told her... just yesterday. It seems such a long time ago now. But she still fails to see its importance considering what he is apparently willing to do to maintain his cover.

"I have faith he will survive. He's not in a coma this time, Madam Snape. He's simply asleep. That's an extremely important distinction. He's a fighter. And his circumstances are improved. That should help."

Hermione chooses to ignore what she might mean by 'his circumstances' and pulls at another thread instead. Ultimately, people haven't been all too forthcoming, and if Madam Pomfrey is willing to share information, then Hermione fully intends to milk her for every last drop. "Why is this so important to him? Why does my safety matter so much?"

This is... tricky. Undoubtedly part of the reason the young woman was at risk is her friendship with Mr. Potter. That risk will comprise part of Severus' and the Headmaster's motivation to secure her safety. And for precisely that same reason, she will be seen as worth protecting: her role is important. But both of those reasons boil down to that importance deriving from that friendship to Mr. Potter; hardly a flattering basis for a bonding.

As Poppy is unable to offer any other immediate motivations to counterbalance that, she has the good sense to keep mum about it. Severus is notorious for keeping his own counsel, sometimes even from himself one suspects, but unquestionably wise given Poppy's demonstrated willingness to reveal his secrets. She can't say for sure what he was thinking.

Still, it's hardly the only explanation for his behaviour.

"I think you need to know some things about his home life to understand that." Poppy has the decency to hesitate at least for a breath before exposing things he would never dream of telling the young woman sat across his bed from her.