“beyond wandpoint” 067 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 11g Tuesday - You Can Scream, You Can Flail”

Hermione, Minerva, Severus, Sunny, mentioned: the Grangers, Molly and Ron

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Originally Published: 2018-03-27 on AO3
Chapter: 067

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

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"SEVERUS SNAPE! WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?"

The not so dulcet tones of Molly Weasley are unmistakable. Hermione just goggles at Professor McGonagall in disbelief.

Minerva, to her credit, realises this probably seems very much like what she herself had done only a day and a half ago, and wisely doesn't put on too much of an indignant air. She does find the Howler exceedingly embarrassing, though, no question, both for Molly and whichever of her children had... briefed her, and it does succeed in making Minerva still more ashamed of her own recent behaviour.

Hermione just shakes her head in frustration as she draws her wand. Still quite taken aback, however, she doesn't raise it yet. This is the second time in days Professor Snape's been lying there while she stood beside him as some irate harridan harped on at them, screaming accusations at him.

Fine, maybe 'harridan' is a bit harsh, her eyes dart quickly to Professor McGonagall, and technically there haven't really been any accusations as yet, but she feels certain they're coming.

She's probably wrong about the former and absolutely correct about the latter.

She turns to her Head of House and without hesitation lumps her in with all the others who seem to be heaping abuse on them lately. In light of the woman's behaviour Sunday, it may even be justified. "You people have completely lost the plot," Hermione accuses without a shred of doubt.

It's Minerva's turn to shake her head in reply, but she has no chance to voice her apology. The Howler naturally proceeds with no regard for the women or their conversation, shrieking at Severus' unconscious form for all it's worth. His sleep is largely unaffected. Small favours, as he'd see it. Bellatrix had wandered into his nightmares again. Compared to her, there's no contest. Molly is a pleasant change of pace, even when yelling.

Whether Minerva can be heard or not over the screaming Howler is secondary. She has no intention of being slow to act this time. She draws her wand and begins to take aim at the screeching parchment.

"HERMIONE'S CLEARLY BEEN HOODWINKED!"

At the mention of her name, Hermione's free hand half automatically reaches out to stay Professor McGonagall's wand, and she stands listening, transfixed. It's a common enough response, but generally not beneficial. Her first instinct was undoubtably healthier. Professor McGonagall's as well.

It's stupid, really. There was no way she wouldn't have been mentioned. She's the reason for this after all. She's half relieved the Professor isn't awake to hear this, it would just be one more inconvenience she'd caused him, and then she immediately feels guilty for thinking there's anything good about his present state. And then she hastens to remind herself what the Discerno had shown.

He's fine. He's going to be just fine. All he needs is some rest, that's all.

If Madam Pomfrey hadn't given him that Potion, with all this racket, he'd almost certainly be awake right now. It's better this way.

It dawns on her that her feelings are all over the place, and she shouldn't like to picture the state she'd be in without the Potion she'd taken. And then she thinks she really should have done as the Professor said and taken the Draught of Peace instead, and feels guilty all over again.

She's a mess.

"SHE DOESN'T KNOW ANY BETTER, BUT YOU!! YOU!!!"

Absently she pockets her wand as she mulls that over.

She's trying to puzzle out why it seems so much worse now than it was yesterday morning, but the volume of the Howler makes it hard to think. She can't concentrate. Of course, the very fact she's being Howled at might just have something to do with her unease. Undoubtedly some of it's the knowledge she can expect to see Malfoy back in classes today, and that he knows what happened Friday. More or less, anyway. He knows enough.

But there are some things she isn't taking into account.

For example because she's trying her utmost to ignore the horrors the bond exposed her to last night. On top of what she'd been through Friday, she's simply unprepared to deal with them at the moment, which is fair enough, and is desperately trying to suppress them as best she can. The results are inconsistent, but she just isn't capable of keeping the abuse the Professor had suffered for their bonding in the forefront of her mind for long without going spare. She's having a lot of difficulty handling the guilt response even fleeting thoughts of it seem to trigger.

One dose of Calming just isn't enough.

Unfortunately, she also seems to have decided in light of the severity of his treatment, that hers pales to nothingness beside it, and she has no right whatsoever to complain. To even feel particularly mistreated. Obviously she wasn't. And certainly none to feel sorry for herself. Nothing happened, after all. Just some torn clothing. It's not like she could feel that. And, Merlin, that clothing has even been replaced.

Which was clearly what mattered.

Her hand goes to phial hanging at her neck.

She's absolutely fine. There wasn't a mark on her. Well, not after her lip was healed anyway. And that could hardly count measured against his wounds. No, she needs perspective, and looking at the proof of the extensive harm he's obviously survived, she has no right to... well, to anything really.

Here, too, he'll eventually explain that it isn't a competition, that his pain in no way negates hers, and fear is a very real thing. But she hasn't heard those words yet or even begun to suspect the truth of the concept behind them. And it's incredibly difficult to cut oneself some slack when one is extremely busy denying there's any call for it in the least.

And finally she completely forgets to consider all the aggravation she'd had with her friends since this time yesterday, evidently culminating in this Howler. She does think dark thoughts about Ron for that, though. Thank you, ever so. Tosser. She also overlooks the fact she's no longer banking on her... friends' support; it's just yet another thing she's trying to ignore. And she doesn't spare a thought for all the aggravation she can undoubtedly look forward to with her other classmates today. They're all things she feels but isn't consciously aware of just now. That will come quite abruptly later.


Well. As insulting statements go, Ron's still in the lead. And who even says 'hoodwinked' anymore? The turn of the century Flooed and would like its vocabulary back. Cheers.

"WHAT KIND OF DEPRAVED WIZARD WOULD DO SUCH A THING?"

Now that makes her mad. Her brow furrows and she clutches the phial more fiercely.

"He doesn't deserve this," Hermione insists, trying to convince Professor McGonagall as there's no one else there for her to try to sway.

"No, no of course not..." It's Minerva's turn to hurry to reassure her.

"FOOLISH CHILD, PROBABLY THINKS SHE'S FOLLOWING HER HEART." Hermione just stares at Professor McGonagall blankly. All Minerva can do is shake her head some more, raise her hands a little helplessly and give a slight shrug. She has no idea what gave the woman that idea.

And foolish? Well. Hermione's been called that before. As recently as yesterday even. With respect to the bonding, in fact. Like mother, like daughter, she supposes. Perhaps she'll give the Weasley family a thesaurus for Christmas. She rather doubts they own one.

"HOW COULD YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HER LIKE THAT?" Hermione's begun blushing, although she couldn't say why. Or shouldn't like to try. Minerva mercifully takes the red in her cheeks for anger.

"JUST BECAUSE THOSE OVERLY PERMISSIVE, ABSENTEE PARENTS OF HERS WOULDN'T SEND YOU A HOWLER DOESN'T MEAN YOU..."

And at that all the colour leaves her face. Hermione goes deathly pale at the mention of her parents, but the sentence never finishes as Minerva now has her wand raised again and reduces the Howler to ash.

Just as well. When the Howler Molly sent Hermione eventually gets the chance to vent its spleen, and does it ever, it will become clear that Molly had feared any of a number of perfectly scandalous rumours were true, and apparently felt the need to address each and every one of those rumours. Thoroughly. Making matters worse, one could safely assume the Howler she sent to Severus was far less... restrained than Hermione's version was. It was best no one heard the rest of his. How Molly had thought airing that in the Great Hall would help the young woman is another matter entirely.

The simple answer is she never posed that question.

"I'm very sorry, Madam Snape. I should have done that sooner."

Hermione just stands there blinking. The blinks come more rapidly and soon Minerva can see the tears forming in her eyes. Severus had told her how the young woman had sent her parents away for their own safety, that they're presently not in touch - and not able to be. How she's all alone now, because she felt she had no other choice. Minerva can imagine what might be going through her mind just now.

No, she probably can't.

But she had left Muggles behind in her youth, including someone she loved very much, enough so to have once been engaged to him, and she does have a hint of an idea what it could mean for the young witch. Minerva feels for her greatly. In the last war, precisely that Muggle Minerva had loved had been killed by Death Eaters, slaughtered along with his entire family. Intellectually, she can only approve of the measures the Grangers had taken, but emotionally she knows that doesn't make the sacrifice easier.

Hermione's knees fold and she sinks to the edge of the bed, sitting there staring into space, focusing ferociously on nothing and trying not to cry.

Well, her parents are most certainly 'absent' now...

A single Calming Draught is no match for the trials of the last several days, or the months before. It all feels like it's crashing down on her, and she's slipping into a state of shock. She seems completely unaware of the barechested man lying motionless behind her. Minerva says a silent prayer that he really is only sleeping, but she doesn't dare ask about him just now.

"Madam Snape?" She prompts gently, but Hermione doesn't seem to hear. "Miss Granger?" Nothing. "Hermione?" She tries, but still no response until she repeats it as she places her hand on the young woman's shoulder.

That gets a response. Unfortunately the reaction that comes then just leaves Minerva feeling worse.

The young witch was clearly spooked, and she half leaps out of her skin. Unexpected touch would seem to be a problem. Minerva could hex herself, it was hardly surprising given what she'd gone through. The images Severus had shared with her of Madam Snape bound to her chair in the Transfigurations classroom come flooding back to mind, and the Gryffindor Head just stands there sinking into further self-recriminations. Minerva feels like she should have known better.

It's not exactly a fair assessment, however, as Hermione had demonstrated no difficulty touching Severus in her presence. But Hermione had either seen the touch coming or initiated it herself, and the bond goes a long way to reassuring her.

Minerva naturally withdraws her hand immediately, but the young woman turns to face her, finally meeting her eyes. The tears in them are apparent, and Minerva is compelled to slowly reach towards her again, careful to keep her hand visible as she does this time, never dropping her gaze, watching for any signs of protest as she moves. When none come, she finally clasps her shoulder gently and squeezes softly, hoping to convey her support.

It helps.

Somehow Hermione feels like it seems to ground her. It's weird and contradictory that such a simple thing can be so beneficial and so detrimental all at once. She can't make any sense of it, but she welcomes the comfort it provides.

Fear had replaced her sadness, and as the fear recedes, she becomes...

She becomes angry.

It's not long before she can hear the blood rushing in her ears. She knuckles away what remains of the tears. She's growing livid over the mention of her parents, at the casual dig at them. She meets Professor McGonagall's gaze again. "She has no business talking about my parents," she finally bites out, willing her to understand, her fury all too readily apparent.

"She probably only meant because they couldn't send a Howler themselves..." Minerva tries consolingly, convincing neither of them. Hermione scoffs softly and wonders when she got so cynical.

But it wasn't a bad impulse on Minerva's part. It would definitely make matters worse to lose friends and moral support for something as stupid as this. She's known Molly for decades. This was a purely emotional response, she's sure of it. It hadn't been well reasoned, and it's probably not even a deliberate attempt to hurt the couple.

For all the good that distinction does given such thoroughly deleterious carelessness.

On the other hand, there's something fundamentally wrong about expecting the victim of a terrifying attack to have to be the one to exercise prudence, demonstrate good judgment, maintain a level-head and then turn the other cheek, as it were. Particularly in the face of what is effectively just another attack. Asking for her understanding really is an ask too far.

"She didn't say 'couldn't'. She said 'wouldn't'. I doubt that was an oversight," Hermione sounds calmer now, but more resolute. Frankly, Minerva's inclined to agree, but it seems disadvantageous to say so. She doesn't want to pour oil on the flames. And yet coupled with the adjective 'absentee', what else is she to think?

That descriptor has Hermione plenty agitated as is.

She'd enjoyed visits at the Weasleys' often over the years. Greatly. But to welcome her to stay with them to her face, and behind her back claim parental neglect... It's rather a lot to swallow. Particularly now.

As an only child, she'd been more than happy to spend time with her friends in the summers and holidays. She'd never had many friends at home and none that lived immediately close by. Her neighbourhood skewed a bit older, their children were mostly grown and moved on. Once she went away to school, the friends she had at home... simply went on with their lives and replaced her.

She couldn't blame them, she'd done the same.

And as she couldn't share significant parts of her life or her experiences with them... It had always felt good to be back with people from Hogwarts who knew her better. And the bigger a role the war began to play in her life, the more difficult it became to bridge the divide with Muggles who would never be able to remotely understand her.

Then, too, it had been especially lovely, when invited to the Weasleys', to be able to gain insights into how witches and wizards lived. These were the things that she wasn't learning at school and were much harder to glean from textbooks. A great deal was simply undocumented, its knowledge taken for granted, and just a day observing in a magical home was able to teach her so much. And then to have it thrown in her face...

Her parents lost to her as they are now, she is so thankful that she spent last Christmas with them. The previous four she'd abandoned her family and spent the hols with her friends. From the age of thirteen on... Goodness, that was young. All those potentially special moments she and her parents had never shared together, memories they never made.

With a huff of some exceptionally dark humour it crosses her thoughts that those were just a few more memories she hadn't had to take from them.

Her parents hadn't wanted her to go. They'd never wanted her gone. They simply gave her the freedoms she needed, she had wanted, to learn. To live on her terms. And here they are being accused of neglect. Had that been shouted in front of all assembled in the Great Hall, she couldn't be held accountable for her response.

Her rage at Ron for instigating this just glows hotter at the thought.

"I'm very sorry that you had to hear that," Minerva tries to express her support.

"No," Hermione disagrees, having decided she's entitled to her outrage, "I'm not. I'm sorry that's what she thinks. I'm sorry that's her idea of an acceptable thing to shout at us in public, because that's precisely what would have happened had he not been seriously injured again last night," her hand reaches back to seek out his where it's lying across his ribs. Hermione takes it into her lap and interlaces their fingers, to reassure herself he's fine, clinging to him and trying to calm herself further.

"She had no way of knowing we'd be here instead of the Great Hall." The sound of that 'she' isn't promising. It's much like Severus' 'boys', in fact. Hermione's learning. "I'm sorry she believes she's justified in treating us that way or that she thinks it was appropriate. That she would try to humiliate us. But I'm not sorry I heard it.

"It's good to know where you stand."

The expression on the young woman's face has something hard about its set, and Minerva fears this may have been a misstep too far for Molly. She suspects, and is correct, that had Molly not effectively insulted the Grangers, Madam Snape could have brushed all of those objections of hers off with a little time; that the key lay entirely in that slight. And that it will take a lot to make up for it, if it's at all possible.

Her years as a Head of House have made her well aware of something else: it will undoubtably be harder to fix if the parties involved don't address the actual issue. As Madam Snape hadn't even mentioned it just now, she's only making it more difficult. Not that this is her mess to sort, not at all, not by any means, but it will be much harder to make this right if no one knows why she's so upset.

She can't help thinking Molly's certainly made a hash of things.

"I can understand your feelings on the matter, but I am sorry it happened, nevertheless. Perhaps you can find it within yourself to try not to be too quick to judge..." Minerva doesn't sound particularly convinced about that last bit, but she hopes that leaves it open whether she means judging Molly or whichever of her misguided children had precipitated the Howler.

Hermione doesn't bother dignifying the suggestion with a response beyond her expression. But that speaks loudly enough.

The remarkably cynical look on Madam Snape's face would indicate that she's silently adding 'like Mrs. Weasley?' to that sentence. Minerva can understand that, too. She sighs as she massages her temple.

It's clear the young woman is a bundle of nerves, quite understandably. Albus seems to have made a bad situation worse at every turn the way he's handled this, and Minerva is determined to help her if she can. Fully aware that her classroom must be the source for still more anxiety, she decides to make the younger witch an offer.

"I can also imagine that it's been a number of very trying days for you. Would it help any were I to excuse you from my class today?"

Hermione blinks in surprise. When Katie Bell had nearly been killed by a cursed necklace last year, Professor McGonagall had still given her homework the day after she was released from St. Mungo's. Really, short of death or current hospitalisation, there's no excuse for missing her class. This is... remarkable. And incredibly considerate.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it. But I really can't afford to skip my classes, not this close to N.E.W.T.s. It's bad enough I'm no longer taking Potions..."

"Albus mentioned something about that at the staff meeting yesterday, but I'm afraid I don't quite follow. I thought that was voluntary. If you wanted to continue with the course, why aren't you taking Potions anymore?"

"He insisted I drop the course. It was his requirement for the bonding," Hermione explains simply, nodding towards the man behind her and squeezing his hand.

She's calming down some, her thoughts no longer exclusively on the Howler, assorted Weasleys, and her parents. As she calms, she becomes more aware of her surroundings. When she'd startled, she'd slid forward and now she feels like she's perched on the edge of the mattress, about to tumble off at any moment. To correct that, she shifts back a little further onto the bed.

But that movement just brings the next surprise.

Apparently her shirt had pulled free of her jeans when she'd leapt at Professor McGonagall's touch, exposing a small strip of skin along her back. All perfectly normal, nothing too strange about that. It really wasn't much of her back exposed, possibly an inch, or maybe two tops, and she hadn't even noticed. It was all thoroughly inconsequential. But as she slides back onto the bed, she's completely shocked when she suddenly feels the warmth of Professor Snape's exposed skin press against hers as her back collides with his bare torso.

In contrast to her response only a moment ago, she doesn't leap away at the contact; she freezes. For a few seconds she goes rigid before relaxing into the touch, and then without thinking, she slides closer to him yet.

It's... conceivable that her shirt had pulled free as she thinks. But it's far more likely the Disillusioned house elf in the corner had something to do with it. Hermione will never be the wiser.

The sensation of... safety, security that overcomes her has her nestling in still further. It's absurd, as the man is unconscious. Insensate, for goodness' sake. She doesn't understand in the least how he represents 'safety', she only knows that he does. She feels completely at peace there.

She gives a slight wriggle she doesn't even register to situate herself. It doesn't escape Minerva, who can't help giving her a slightly thoughtful look. It's just as well Severus is sound asleep for this as it would have had him darting from the bed. Or failing the ability to do that just now, which is a strong possibility, he might have even Levicorpused the witch.

He's been known to overreact on occasion.

Asleep as he is, however, he instead reflexively begins to turn slightly towards her warmth instead and the hand in her lap moves to wrap around her left hip and pull her closer. That's met by something best described as a warm chill that shoots up her spine, and she leans in even more.

Sunny, suffice it to say, is suitably satisfied.


"But whatever for? That was completely unnecessary." Minerva's tone sounds like she thinks Severus was just being difficult again, but a look at him in his present state soon has her modulating that. He's entitled.

Still.

She can't see the sense in his actions, and she can't quite help saying as much. And to be fair, she knows just how important her academic achievements are to the young witch before her, and this is nothing that couldn't be remedied. Surely Madam Snape could easily rejoin the class were Severus willing, and Minerva is more than prepared to badger him until he permits it, if the young woman so desires. She's her Head of House, after all, and especially now, acting in loco parentis. Someone needs to look out for her interests.

"There are safeguards in place," she explains, thinking Madam Snape may be unaware. "It shouldn't have presented a problem... Merlin, enough staff have taught family members over the years. I've been Head of House and teacher to all four of my nephews. If anything, it should have ensured..."

She trails off, and Hermione finds herself smirking. She's absolutely certain, and correct, that Professor McGonagall had the same thought Hermione had on the matter: that those safeguards should have guaranteed fairer point deductions and possibly even point gains than she had previously... enjoyed in his class. That if anything, it would have been an improvement.

"You shouldn't have to quit the course if you don't wish to," Minerva tries to encourage her. "I'll be happy to speak to him for you about it, if you wish?"

Frankly, it's tempting. Very. But looking at his hand still in hers, she's already feeling like she isn't doing a particularly good job of accepting his terms, and she had agreed to them. And it's not like she can't sort of see his point. At least on this issue...

"I really appreciate the offer, Professor, but it won't be necessary. We've made arrangements with the Headmaster. I will be permitted to take the N.E.W.T. despite dropping the course, and I'll be allowed to practice and complete the course as independent study. That seems fair enough. In fact, I'm sure there will be enough people who will still claim that gave me an unfair advantage," she really seems to be getting more and more cynical as the week progresses. And it's only Tuesday. This morning's Howler won't have helped.

When the Transfigurations Mistress still looks unconvinced, Hermione adds, "It was important to him, and I have to respect that. I had the choice to take it or leave it, and I made it. It doesn't seem right to go back on that now," she probably doesn't just mean dropping his class, but no one else needs to know that. "And I could imagine teaching a bondmate might be different to simply having your nephews in class?"

That Minerva can understand. The truth of it is completely obvious as the young woman says it. It just seems so... odd to think of those two in those terms. Because they're not. Clearly not. On the contrary, Minerva finds herself welcoming any signs her charge is comfortable with the man. That borders on a miracle, both considering that specific man and the attack on the witch only days past. Looking at them now... She honestly doesn't know what she was thinking when she burst in there Sunday. In light of that, she wonders if a bonding really should complicate things given they haven't that sort of relationship.

And then it strikes her that it speaks for him trying to establish at least... something. A more even footing between them. That almost seems too... optimistic a tack for Severus. Or maybe he just couldn't stomach the gossip that otherwise might have arisen. She amends that quickly; it seems highly unfair. He has put up with a great deal of defamation over the years, meeting it with a dignified indifference Minerva isn't sure she could have achieved.

She weighs if this, formally ending the teacher-student relationship, was likely to stop that malicious chatter overmuch, decides it won't, and then suspects all the more that it really must be about changing the dynamic between them. And with that realisation, she finally stops lobbying for Madam Snape to rejoin his course. And possibly respects her colleague just that little bit more.

"I also understand your reluctance to miss class, but the offer stands, Madam Snape, if you wish to take me up on it. You don't have to go to Transfigurations today. You could take the entire week, if you want to. And if you sincerely feel that leaves you behind on the material," the slight upwards tick of Minerva's lips suggests she doesn't believe it would, "then I would be more than happy to help you catch up. More 'independent study', as you say."

"It really is generous of you to volunteer your time like that, but I need to go to all my other classes. One more or less shouldn't make a difference."

Minerva looks at her a little curiously. She has the sense the young woman means every word. There's nothing disingenuous about her reply. And yet Minerva can think of one very good reason why her class might be different to the others. Strangely that doesn't seem to have occurred to her student. She's now uncertain if explaining her thoughts will be more likely to cause or avert a problem for the young witch.

Minerva's disadvantaged because she doesn't know what really took place Friday evening. Hermione is worried about Malfoy's presence in her courses. In all her courses. From Minerva's standpoint, unaware as she is of who took part in the assault this weekend, it's the location that should prove problematic. In truth, both will be difficult.

She decides it's better to broach the topic in a safe environment. If it is going to cause Madam Snape discomfort, better here away from bystanders. Speaking as gently as she can, she explains, "I was concerned that my classroom might pose some difficulty for you."

Hermione's face loses all the colour she'd only just regained. She hadn't been thinking along those lines at all, that's how focused she'd been on trying to ensure she'd remain calm when facing Malfoy in classes today. But now she is.

Holy Cricket!

That classroom!

It comes flooding back, just how difficult it had been to enter it last night, even with the Professor leading her by the hand. She doesn't know if she can do it on her own.

The struggle clear in her voice, Hermione replies, "I need to go. I can't afford not to."

"I'm sure there's plenty of time for you to make up the material before N.E.W.T.s," Minerva reassures her and does a good job of suppressing her amusement in the face of the woman's obvious distress.

"No, Professor. You don't understand. We discussed it," she nods at Severus again, "I only have a small window of opportunity to demonstrate, convincingly, how little this has affected me." She swallows visibly, and Minerva tries not to let her scepticism at the probable success of such an attempt show.

Hermione endeavours to pull herself together, not entirely successfully. "If I can make them believe this was of no consequence, he was reasonably certain it would reduce the net amount of flak I'll receive. It will all blow over faster instead of gaining steam. But I need to prove myself. I can't run and hide now, it will only make things more difficult."

Even without knowing the individuals involved, Minerva can imagine why that might be true. To her mind, certain Slytherins will be hearing from their Death Eater family members what took place, and might proceed to change the way they behave towards the young woman. If anything, that should be another aspect of protection that bonding their Head of House will presumably provide Madam Snape. The more she thinks about the situation, the more sure she becomes that Severus is indeed offering her a great deal of protection at significant cost to himself, and again she regrets her words in anger to him Sunday.

Fortunately, Minerva reads Madam Snape's reaction correctly and again hurries to offer her support. "Would it help if we walked to class together?"

The relief on Hermione's face answers for her, and Minerva proceeds as though she answered, eager not to make her feel she needs to express her gratitude. It really is the least she can do for her. "Then that's exactly what we'll do. Have you eaten anything yet?"

With some embarrassment, Hermione thinks of her promise to Luna and admits she hadn't. "Well then we'll have a house elf..." She doesn't even finish the sentence before a tray appears floating in front of the young woman.

It's very definitely not Infirmary food. In addition to orange juice, practically nonexistent at Hogwarts, there are some pumpkin pasties and grapes, things Hermione could easily take with her and eat on the way to class should she be pressed for time. The pasties are perfectly flakey and golden, and Minerva is trying to remember when she last saw grapes on the tables in the Great Hall. Someone clearly likes the witch. Quite a bit.

Sunny has just been waiting for his cue. His quick action ensures both that his Mistress has a good meal, none of that inferior tuck Polly is wont to serve, and that Mistress is now somewhat trapped on the bed by the tray. He's more than a little eager for her not to relocate to the chair, and devious enough to take steps to ensure she doesn't.

Minerva stifles a surprised chuckle. "I guess someone was waiting for you. Fine, you eat your breakfast, and take your time. We're in no rush." Hermione almost reaches for her wand at that to cast a Tempus in disbelief, and the corners of Minerva's mouth curve slightly upwards again in amusement. "I assure you, Madam Snape, class won't begin without us. That's a clear advantage to being in my company," she adds with a wink. "You just see about getting some of that," she points to the floating tray, "into your belly.

"Can you summon Severus' elf?" She asks the young woman, another thought coming to mind. Hermione's expression answers for her as she takes the first bite of her pastie, Merlin that's good, she's unsure if she can.

"Try," Minerva suggests. "You'll need your books and school robes, of course, and Severus has assured us, on many, many occasions, that we're not likely to be able to breach his wards. If you can't have his elf fetch your things, I fear none of the others will be able to. Or did you leave some of your belongings in the Tower?"

As a matter of fact, Hermione had left some of her things in the Tower at Professor Snape's suggestion. And now she's wondering why he had been so insistent about it. Her eyes dart towards him as an extremely unpleasant notion creeps over her that it could very well have something to do with how he had anticipated his current invalidity. Or worse.

Nevertheless, an experimental call for "Sunny?" soon has him shimmering into view on the other side of the Professor's bed.

"Would it be alright, that is, would you mind terribly getting my Transfgurations text, parchment, a Self-inking Quill and my notebook for me? Oh, and my school robes and beaded bag, please?" Hermione bites her lower lip, unsure if she can have him do her bidding like that outside of chambers and still a little uncomfortable with the whole idea of having a house elf do her bidding at all. But she's sensible enough to recognise there's no time to eat breakfast, return to chambers, change and still get to class even vaguely punctually.

"Yes, Mistress. Sunny is happy to fetch Mistress' things." He refrains from pointing out she's given no thought to appropriate footwear. Mistress seems to forget shoes regularly. Humans. He adds her socks and shoes and the unmentionables she quite logically also didn't mention mentally to his list.

"Mistress will watch Master until Sunny returns?" He asks of her in exchange, rather unnecessarily, but he's found that having made his suggestions and extracted promises, humans are far more likely to do as he wishes. He's not been the elf to the Head of Slytherin all these years without learning a thing or two in the process.

He disappears from view even as she's assuring him she won't venture from the Professor's side.

She reflects that that is indeed a very literal description of her position, pressed as she still is against him, snug between his hip and his ribs. It's a distinctly pleasant sensation that she knows she really shouldn't get used to, but much as Madam Pomfrey's blanket had comforted her just at the feel of it, so does the contact with her bondmate.

Professor McGonagall half turns to go, comfortable she's done what she can for the moment, "I believe Mr. Thomas and Mr. Weasley are still in the main room. Why don't I see after them while you eat your breakfast and get ready? I can wait for you in Madam Pomfrey's office until you're ready. There's no hurry."

"Thank you, Professor. I won't be long."

Minerva just gives her a reassuring smile and a nod as she leaves the little room.