“beyond wandpoint” 113b by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 12z Wednesday - Loyalty” Part 2

Severus and Hermione have a chat about the Salve and her Loyalty Vow.

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Originally Published: 2019-08-30 on LJ / DW
Chapter: 113 part 2

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Characters:

Severus (HoS, Potions), Hermione 7G (Prefect, Supreme Swot)

Mentioned briefly: Staff: Albus Dumbledore (dying Headmaster, but ffs, not nearly fast enough...), Slytherins: Tracey Davis 7S (Swottier)

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A/N: Heya. *waves* Relax. Don't worry about that 'part 2' bit. Ideally this would be the Slytherin Chapter. Eh. *shrugs* I had to cut them out of the last one because of all the html (I was hitting the character max), and now this one is huge, so it will just have to be a two-parter. And in a perfect world, I'd alternate and put the Snakelets first. Hmm. Well. It may have escaped your notice, but the world isn't perfect. *nods* 😉 So I'm just putting this out now, and then I'll follow up with the Snakes next weekish. And then! I'll probably confuse matters greatly and go ahead and swap their order, because I'm just crazy and wild that way. (Some days I even eat dessert first. Orderly Anarchy ftw!) And it'll probably just niggle at me if I don't. 😆 Sort what you can, right? Annnway, I'll let you know if I do anything silly, and in the meantime, I hope you enjoy another fireside chat with Severus and Hermione.

*smooches*
Ginger ❤️

All new! The Index to the story on Dreamwidth is now clicky, too! You can now navigate from either Index to the chapters of choice. 'Index' ( LJ / DW )


Also! People, my good people! Today is your last day to sign up for the sshg-giftfest! If I can be brazen enough to offer to 'art' for some poor unsuspecting soul, then surely your talents are more than adequate to the task. *nods* Make something for someone! Get something lovely from someone! (Well, unless it's my art... 😆) And you have two months to get it done, so no excuses. 😉 (Sign-ups to write! / sign-ups to art!)

(Amusing side note, autocorrect made a 'shag-fest' out of my 'sshg'. Which: lol 😆 but I can't believe it keeps forgetting my priorities... 😐)

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Previously:

Sunday. After Albus concocts that harebrained bonding scheme of his, Severus finds himself in the less than enviable position of being forced to clarify far too much of it for his liking to Hermione from the discomfort of his Infirmary bed. Her frankly ridiculous notions as to what all a Loyalty Vow might entail only prove - unequivocally - that Albus hadn't come close to sufficiently explaining the matter to her. (025 LJ / DW) When they later speak of the Vow again on Tuesday evening, to his great pleasure Severus discovers that he hadn't imparted enough of it to her either. (His joy knows no bounds.) (077b LJ / DW)

Severus performs a mandatory visit to the Manor Friday and is tortured for his pains. Ta muchly. Between the Death Eaters' treatment and the energy he expends rescuing Hermione, he lands in the Infirmary for the weekend, fighting to recover. As if that weren't enough, to 'reward' him for bonding Potter's Mudblood without so much as a by your leave, Voldemort (generally not the greatest fan of autonomy, except for alternate Saturdays when he suddenly is) allows Bellatrix to Crucio Severus further on Monday evening. (057 LJ / DW) In his already weakened state, and perhaps because Bellatrix is feeling more than typically stroppy, the curses hit him harder than usual, and soon he's back in Poppy's care. (She's thinking about having him just take up residence.) Hermione discovers the results of Friday night's abuses on Severus when he carries her to the Infirmary after her rescue. (007 LJ / DW) Monday night, thanks to the bond, she's all too aware (in a general sense) of what You-Know-Who's people are doing to her bondmate. While it isn't remotely pleasant, at least it assures she's in a position for Sunny to bring her to Severus' rescue. (057 LJ / DW) And if she gains a measure of appreciation for the man and his service to the Order in the process, it probably doesn't go amiss as they're bonded.

Tuesday evening. When Hermione fails to grasp some of the finer points to the Loyalty Vow's functions (hey, it's still very new), Severus decides to teach her a lesson she won't soon forget. Unfortunately the pedagogue extraordinaire is less than sober at the time he makes that brilliant decision. (Oh, let's be honest: he's cabbaged.) The Vow is non-trivially defective and it's a terrible liability - it truly wouldn't do to downplay it - but Severus' judgment is... suboptimal at the moment, and instead of leaving it at a lecture like any sensible person might, the illustrative example he concocts involves having her administer the highly poisonous Gnomicide to him. (In his defence - not that it's much of one, but still - he's rather accustomed to people ignoring his lectures - he has years of experience of this, in fact - and this was too important not to try to get it across by any means necessary.) Hermione's thrilled beyond measure at that. He survives thanks to a Bezoar, but it's probably one of the stupider things he's done, and that's saying something considering he joined the Death Eaters of his own volition back in the day... (077b LJ / DW) But on the upside, it made an impression, so... Mission accomplished? *snort* It's never that easy.

Wednesday. Hermione's been hearing a lot about intent lately. First, Millie (of all people) inadvertently teaching her about Oaths (102b LJ / DW), then from Severus when he makes Hermione the sole owner of her room. (111 LJ / DW) Naturally she undoes that latter almost immediately, but it's enough to make a witch think, isn't it?

Wednesday after dinner. Marking some time while waiting for the Deconstruction process to conclude on the last of Crabbe's unidentifiable potions, Severus conducts a few experiments on his ring. (108 LJ / DW)

Last year. Driven by a desire to help Val's sinus-challenged cousin Val (and yes, Hermione, too, thought it was odd that they had two Vals in the same family), back in the days when he played on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Tracey made some major improvements to Pepper-Up. When she was finished, she had reduced the time spent steaming post-quaffing from several hours to (just) under one. (We learn of it when Daphne sings the Potion's praises to Hermione in 101 LJ / DW.)

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"I'm afraid we need to have talk about the Salve and your Loyalty Vow," Severus tells her, withdrawing to his chair across from her. She'd been so happy for a moment there, he almost feels a little guilty for broaching the topic... Almost. But this is too important and needs addressing. He typically doesn't shrink from unpleasant tasks.

His Tempus chimes and he silences it, focusing his attention back on the witch in front of him. He can postpone his plans until later. They aren't time sensitive. This on the other hand... Who knows how long it will take her to share his Salve with all and sundry...

"I won't tell anyone," she assures him, as if reading his thoughts. He doesn't look persuaded. That may be entirely due to the fact that although she seems sincere, she really does, she doesn't feel convinced, and there is virtually no chance that won't prove costly in his - admittedly limited - experience.

He sighs, but there's no longer anything remotely theatrical about it. Hermione can sense how serious he feels this is, even if she can't quite understand why. Severus has an idea, something he'd thought of to test her Vow... He wouldn't have chosen this precise scenario, generally preferring not to be an idiot of the first water, but it may prove more opportune for exactly the reasons he'd have rather avoided it given a choice. There is real danger here. If she can comprehend the nature of a threat, if she truly believes it, he thinks there's an excellent chance the Loyalty Vow will function.

For once.

Considering, he revises the assessment from 'excellent' to merely 'a chance'. Blast Albus and his interference. This was just another thing, well and truly bollocksed.

But then why should this be any different from all the rest?

"You've seen my scars?" He asks straightforwardly. She blinks, swallows, and nods, already not liking where this is apparently headed. Her left hand still busy with her collar, her right goes up reflexively to clutch the small phial hanging about her neck. Her throat seems incredibly dry all of a sudden and she can't quite seem to find her voice, so she settles on nodding again, less tentatively this time. He continues, "Many of them, most of them are comparatively recent." She blinks once more. "I found myself forced to develop the Salve once there was... an increased need for it these past few years." He lets that sit there, and it's her turn to feel like a trapped animal, desperate not to imagine it. It's particularly unfortunate, of course, because he's starting comparatively easy. "But how could I give the Salve to one side and not the other? 'What if', Miss Granger. 'What if?' How would I have explained it?"

"Couldn't you..." her voice breaks and drawing courage from the fact he's asked, she tries again. "Couldn't you have done so anonymously?" Had she had the Salve earlier, it would have spared her much pain, and she won't have been the only one who could have used it. That much is clear, and yet she has the feeling there's something, some reason there... something she's missing that has her very hesitant to even suggest it.

"Oh, I have done. Repeatedly. With any number of things. While openly supplying both sides." The huff that accompanies that statement strikes her as very dark indeed.

If she hadn't recognised the obvious objection, or at least chosen not to mention it, he could have left it at that and would have preferred to, but she has, and now he's forced to bring some unpleasant truths to light. Beyond its distastefulness, he expects it will change her opinion of him, but there's nothing for it, and in passing it strikes him as odd to have even considered her response. His thumb traces his ring as he thinks it. Presumably cohabitation and the unrelenting transmission through the bond have lent her reaction more importance. He sincerely hopes latent notions on marriage aren't coming into play...

"But what use would doing so be were the Salve's existence kept unknown? It wouldn't have been." He states it as a fact, and she knows he's right. The stuff is a wonder; it would have been used. "And quite frankly, given that discomfort is unquestionably a goal of those who inflict it, letting them know I had a means to make their... treatment less painful only seemed likely to guarantee me more of the same. I couldn't afford for certain parties to ever learn this Salve existed, regardless who was thought to have created it."

She tries, hard, not to picture what she knows he's been through, but it's impossible to unknow a thing. Well, shy of an Obliviate anyway. The state of him Friday - Holy Cricket, his chest - what she felt them do to him Monday... She tries even harder not to extrapolate from what she knows and the damage it left behind to the far more numerous visible traces of past abuses that remain on his body and what she can only imagine - is terrified of imagining - must have caused them. The stuff of nightmares. He's led a horrifying life, and she'd be the last person to demand he make things any worse for himself. Certainly not since she's gleaned some understanding of what he faces anyway.

"Can you blame me?" He asks.

It's a simple question.

Except it's not.

She gets the feeling a good deal depends on her answer and finally notices he's Occluding again. Her first reaction is to be appalled that he should feel he needs to justify this decision. Shockingly, that sits poorly with him as he quite naturally misinterprets her reason. Too predictably, he Occludes a little more, and so it'll cost her some effort to convince him as she's now more difficult to sense. "No, of course not," doesn't begin to do the trick.

Her hand fists tighter around her pendant as she takes a moment to gather her thoughts, "It isn't your responsibility." He scoffs automatically. Albus has worked that word too hard, for too long; it's virtually a trigger.

She tries again, "I'm sure anything you can contribute to the field will be appreciated whenever you can safely make that contribution, but you're hardly obliged to do so to your own detriment." That comes closer, but doesn't quite hit its mark.

Something in his expression - it's no longer in the feel of him - makes her add, "And no one has the right to expect it of you."


That finally proves effective.

He's not sure he agrees, but he definitely appreciates the sentiment. It helps greatly that he knows she means it. When she feels him end the Occlumency, she begins to relax as well.

"So you can see, can you not, why no one else must learn of the Salve? And definitely not that I had invented it. To say nothing of withholding it, for that matter..."

"Of course," she readily agrees. "Your 'what if' doesn't apply. No one will find out about it, so you'll never have to justify it. We don't need to answer that." It comes out more flippant than anything else, but she's trying to sound cheery. She's not sure it's warranted, it doesn't exactly suit the topic, but she's hoping he'll find it reassuring. Truthfully, he finds it naïve, but he does believe he has her convinced now. That should help.

"We should test this soon with the Headmaster," he doesn't sound pleased at the thought. "We'll need to see if - now that you are aware of the risks - the Vow performs sufficiently that he's unable to ferret out the memory."

She tries, fruitlessly, to not to make it quite so obvious that she's now struggling to swallow around a lump that seems to have manifested in her throat at the very thought. (He finds it incredibly reassuring.) Naturally it wouldn't be as simple as just not telling anyone. Why should this be easy? And just how is she supposed to protect her thoughts - from someone as skilled as Professor Dumbledore, no less - without the Vow's help? But then that was sort of the point, the Vow needs to help. It needs to work.

"But at least it wouldn't be so bad if he were to discover it..." She's already trying to mitigate the failure she fears. No, anticipates.

"No one, Miss Granger. No one. I'd have expected your command of the English language to be sufficient to realise that includes the Headmaster. Or do you truly believe he'd keep it to himself?"

If he thought it was useful? No, she doesn't. For the moment, she's spared having to admit that by her transparency. Her face would answer for her if the bond hadn't already.

Severus prefers to leave a great many things unsaid, but that might be an advantageous memory - were they able to decouple it from the Salve in her thoughts, at any rate. But if the worst came to pass, and the wrong parties learnt of the Salve, while he could expect a good deal of physical abuse - when doesn't he these days - no one would question his behaviour. Both sides would find his actions made perfect sense. At worst, he is certain, it would be painful, but not life ending.

And so he prods, "Would he keep it to himself? Even if exposure meant placing me at risk?"

"No," she replies, definite, "he wouldn't hesitate." Her lips press tightly together as she evaluates some of her recent experiences with the man. "If he truly wanted something, that wouldn't stop him. And then he'd stand there telling us it was for the greater good."

Severus hadn't expected that response and, Merlin, he could kiss the witch. It was absolutely perfect. He may have to come up with a way to show that to the Dark Lord yet.

And of course it warms his heart - nontrivially - to have her confirm once more that not everyone worships at the altar of Albus...

He approves.

She relaxes a little more in the wake of that approval.


Hermione is sort of sprawled in her chair, her body still feels far too good for her to care about things like posture, but she's not so far gone as to not carefully hold the collar of her top well away from her scar. The thing has tugged at her for a year and a half. And now it doesn't. It's... this is strange. The treated part of the scar is still there, still visible. She'd rather anticipated that given all the ones she'd seen on the Professor. But it feels so much better and has finally, finally ceased its pulling. The tightness is gone, and with it the pain. It just... doesn't hurt anymore.

She looks at him enquiringly, "How long do you suppose I should let the air at it?" Her right hand has relinquished her necklace once more, leaving more of her décolletage exposed to view. He supposes it's wrong of him to have preferred her tension from moments ago.

"You'd have to ask Poppy. That was never my recommendation to begin with." She makes no move to cover up, and he tries to reason with her, "In contrast to the regular Scarcefier, my Salve is obviously fast acting. What are you expecting? That if your blouse comes into contact with it, the pain will return?" He thought it sounded perfectly ridiculous, and still she seems unconvinced. At this point it borders on a superstition.

"I don't want to risk it," she confirms his suspicions, and continues to sit there holding on to her collar.

Severus may be new to this bonding business, but even he knows enough to sense it isn't worth the argument.

"Do you suppose I can touch it?" She asks next.

"I'm quite certain you can," he replies less than helpfully with a faint chuff. She wrinkles her nose at him, and he answers her question. "I see no reason why you shouldn't."

Carefully she touches just the tip of her finger to the very top of the scar. It's hard to believe it hasn't just vanished.

He thinks he likes the look of fascination on her, it speaks for his Salve.


There was something about his reaction to her answer about the Headmaster that's been niggling at her, working in the back of her mind. He'd been pleased, but it seemed... Well some of it was personal, she's sure of it - she sort of liked that; it was something else they'd shared - but it had had a slight note of triumph to it that has her... wondering.

Hermione isn't exactly the sort to hesitate to do that out loud.

"Does it help in any way if I distrust the Headmaster?"

He blinks. She's intelligent, he'd never argue she isn't, but she isn't the most creative person he's ever encountered. So he finds it a touch disconcerting when he doesn't always follow her thinking from one idea to the next.

"How do you mean?" He tends to err on the side of caution. And in the final analysis, his actions need justifying, not hers.

She'll avoid referencing the personal component of his response, his obvious pleasure - that probably wouldn't end well - and stick to the specific aspect, that feeling of accomplishment. Sure, he can deduce from that that she knows more, but she also gets the feeling that as long as certain things are left unsaid, he's more than willing to ignore them. She can work within those parameters.

Well, maybe.

It's worth a try anyway.

"I had the sense that you found it... useful when I expressed my doubts about Professor Dumbledore."

He goes very quiet. It's not just that he isn't saying anything, but she can't even really feel him. It's not the nothingness, the cold void she'd felt when he'd first Occluded, he just becomes very difficult to feel at all, and she decides he is trying different things to... to hide from her. She doesn't take it personally. Well, not too much. He'd explained that she was a risk after all. Quite graphically, in fact. And she's not liable to forget his demonstration with the Gnomicide any time soon either... But his Occluding makes her curious, drives her to pay more attention. That's undoubtedly counterproductive, but it's a reaction; she doesn't have those entirely under control.

She decides it might help matters if she puts forward some ideas. "I could picture a situation where it might be beneficial? If you could say you were winning me over, to your cause I mean."

"It's not my cause." For all it was quiet, that's an extremely loaded sentence if ever she's heard one. Prickly person, her bondmate. Not easy at all.

Not that she can't see the issue, as she hastens to reassure him. "Oh, well of course not. 'What if'. As a loyal member of the Order, it absolutely isn't. You're just pretending in order to be able to do your work as a spy. I know that. Obviously. Except you're also a loyal Death Eater, and that's all a ploy, and you are actually completely faithful to Vol... You-Know-Who. And winning me over to their way of thinking... It would be a coup? Wouldn't it?"

He nods cautiously, because he's had just those thoughts. Technically, the objective would be to convince her to stop helping Potter and the Order, but it's presumably wise not to debate that in light of her unreliable Vow. "And how would we explain such a thing to the Order?" He asks.

"Well ideally we wouldn't." He snorts. He may just like the way she thinks. "Why should we? Who would even know? The Headmaster? Only if he pried. This is just me, trying to be loyal. There's my Vow and all that; that was his doing, so he could hardly object. I'd just be trying to be helpful and to support you in your mission." She's enthusiastic and yet frightfully earnest and makes it all seem so eminently... reasonable. It's not simply that she believes she's right - Merlin, he knows from personal experience she almost always does - but she sits there making it sound as though she plausibly could be of some assistance, if only he'd... let her.

"That works, doesn't it?" She tries to encourage him, half begging him to engage. He's more comfortable couching it as part of her never-ending quest for approval, but senses it's wrong as he thinks it. "As explanations go?"

"It might. Except for that very thought means it wouldn't work for the... opposition. Or are you certain you can keep these memories from anyone else?"

"No, of course not. That was rather your point about the Salve. But I'm trying, and I'm learning, or I will be. And ideally the Loyalty Vow..." He scoffs. "I know it's not without issues," he thinks that's severely understating the problem, "but the opposition isn't here," she insists. Frankly he's not too sure about that assertion either, but allows her to continue. "So we try. We see if the Headmaster can uncover the memories of the Salve. If we can get the Vow to work properly, then before it becomes relevant, this would be sorted, and then we have something like a back catalogue of memories we could use to demonstrate the development over time." She's proud of that idea. It shows in the slightly smug set of her jaw.

For his part, Severus doesn't think the idea is completely rubbish, which surprises him.

"And if it ever became a... concern before you miraculously develop that capability? How would we explain those insincere interactions?"

"Well either I don't trust you and I'm leading you on," he huffs at that and quirks a brow, "although the bond makes that sort of difficult..." He smirks tightly, almost painfully, and then bobs his head fractionally in all too rueful agreement. She kind of gets that. "Or I'm trying to help you and you allow it. Firstly for cover, and secondly because the very fact I'm doing something I might otherwise not means I'll grow more comfortable with it, which naturally will be your ulterior motive for participating in this ruse. It's all a perfectly sensible part of your effort to win me over to the dark side."

The 'Dark Side'? Hmm. How Muggle.

She's not wrong, however.

"I could use a signal?" She suggests. There's something so hopeful about her as she does... It's more than a little odd to have someone trying, wanting to help him. It curbs his natural inclination to stop her cold or expound on all the reasons it's doomed to fail. "For instance, if I tuck my hair behind my ear," she demonstrates, "then what follows is insincere. Faked. Done just for You-Know-Who's sake. That way you can tell." He manages not to laugh. Personally he thinks he can tell quite well enough thanks to the bond, ta, but sees no reason to discourage her. He needs her working on that Vow of hers. If she wants to add her own ideas to the pot... Presumably it's best to let her do so, as long as it keeps her motivated.

So he tries to be constructive.


It's not his forte.


"You don't do that on other occasions?" He finally asks. Not unreasonably, he believes. One of his long fingers strokes the hair above his right ear to illustrate.

"I'm sure I do, but not while making eye contact."

Ah. That shouldn't seem odd at all.

Constructive. Of course.

Naturally.

Naturally he's not in the least bit constructive. No, that goes against his very nature.


Albus is an arse.

An unmitigated arse.

Severus manages not to sigh and reminds himself once more to keep the witch on side...

So he nods. "I see no reason we couldn't give it a try." That's true enough. If it goes pear shaped, he'll simply sell it as trying to convince her he's a spy for the Order, perhaps even as a failed attempt to subtly poison her against Albus and his minions. It should do. Ultimately no one should expect it to be possible to sway her to the Dark Lord's cause. It's not like they have anything to offer the Muggle-born. Merlin, they make rather a point of not doing so. If things went to their plan, what would the future hold for her? Detention camps? Azkaban? Worse? Hardly winning arguments...

She rewards his cooperation with a brilliant smile that does her parents' profession proud and finally wraps herself contentedly in her blanket until she's a soft, fluffy, beaming mass. He feels a bit of a heel for not believing in her idea more, but that's undoubtably the natural result of his years of experience with the people she means to deceive by such simple measures.

Still, what can it hurt?


Her hand keeps wandering back to the portion of her scar they'd treated, and he can't help noticing the gesture is different to before. Her touch, when she dares to, is featherlight; it's practically a caress. She's no longer trying to assuage the pain, massaging it to provide relief. If anything it seems it's now to convince herself the scar is still there.

He's quite pleased with her response.

She catches him looking her hand and smiles at him once more.

"Is the Ichor Malus Dark Magic?"

Considering the previous topic, he now finds himself watching to see if she's about to tuck her hair behind her ears. "No. But it's caused by the body trying to heal after... exposure to certain kinds of Dark Magic. It might be more... palatable to think of it as much like the process by which an oyster forms a pearl from an irritant."

"Except it's a singularly noisome pearl, and the irritant might well have been life threatening..." There's something wry about her tone that... suits.

"Precisely," he gives her a toothy grin that has something sharklike about it.

"And is using it Dark?"

Interesting question given he'd only just collected it. His eyes dart again to her ears, but she makes no move to tuck her hair back. He waits and still she doesn't move. How can she possibly have forgotten her own signal this quickly? Finally he resigns and tucks his own hair demonstratively behind his ear with a questioning look. That he feels utterly foolish while doing so should go without saying.

She laughs and shakes her head. Brilliant. Well this is going swimmingly. She's simply the soul of subtlety.

"Not necessarily," he replies, his voice artfully masking the slight exasperation the bond nevertheless conveys. "It depends entirely on what one does with it." She looks at him quizzically, so he explains, "Ignoring the question of light and dark for the moment, as they're often more political than practical labels, let's use 'good' and 'evil', shall we?

"Is a knife evil?"

"Certainly not when dicing Dandelion root, say, or buttering my toast. Or slicing the Sunday roast..." She embraces the challenge.

"And when it's hilt deep in someone's chest?"

Well that was colourful. "Absolutely, yes." She's exceedingly sure of herself and makes this easy for him.

"And if it were in self defence?"

"Then it wouldn't be." She's still far too sure.

"And if there had been other ready options? A Stupefy, say."

"Um..." She stops to think now, because this hasn't gone as smoothly as she expected. On the other hand, she notes with a bit of amusement that he seems to be enjoying himself, so it's not a total wash. "Then I suppose it is."

"And what if after the Stupefy wears off, that person can be reasonably expected to unleash Avadas on anyone they encounter? Would it be evil then?"

"Well you can't play judge and jury..."

"Can't you? Shouldn't you? When the Ministry stops acting to uphold order? Or worse, becomes an agent of disorder? What recourse do you have? Acting as judge and jury isn't the problem. It's the executioner's role I believe you object to.

"And as to your diced Dandelion root," he drawls; she just grins at him, waiting for it, "what if it's used in a poison?"

"Dandelion root? In a poison? Are there any?"

"I can think of seventeen off the top of my head." It helps that eleven of them have the same base.

"Well, in that scenario, the knife isn't evil, the poison isn't even evil, the individual administering it might not be, depending on his or her knowledge and intent... The use thereof, however, is." She's seems suitably pleased with herself for the differentiated analysis of the problem.

"Are you quite sure?" His sharklike grin puts in another appearance.

"I guess not when you put it that way? Go on. What did I overlook this time?"

"One of those poisons is Gnomicide. You may recall it from yesterday evening?" Does she ever. How could she possibly forget? She can't believe the brazenness of the man to even mention it. Her indignation only serves to amuse him. "Another binds the venom of the Brazilian pit viper. Properly dosed, it manages hypertension. A third is combined with the toxic saliva of the Gila Monster. It increases the body's production of insulin, lowering blood sugar, and is the only known cure for Diabetes Maelificus, Zauberers Zucker. And a fourth is vital to maintaining Thestral health when combating Azoturia." He doesn't mention that it's most likely to occur when the animals have been over-exerted, not properly cooled down, and their diets aren't adjusted accordingly. Something that might almost be expected to happen when one takes such creatures on a late night jaunt from Hogwarts to the DoM, say. Severus may just be learning here, or possibly he doesn't enjoy the sensation of her reflected guilt. Whichever. "Measured doses of opium, mandrake, henbane and hemlock - poisons all - have numbed the pain of surgery - even in the Muggle world - for a thousand years and more. So no, the use of a poison isn't intrinsically evil. The purpose of the application, however, may be."

"And how about the Ichor Malus?"

"It's useful and it's rare. It shouldn't surprise you to learn that there have been attempts to deliberately... create it. You can easily argue that that is evil."

"Injuring people with Dark Magic and then trying to... harvest it?" She sounds appalled. Given he bears a few scars from just such attempts, privately he can only agree. He was lucky; they hadn't produced any Ichor, and the concerned parties had abandoned their experiments soon after.

"It isn't easy to create deliberately," he can state with confidence and does. "And as with many other potions ingredients, a willing donation seems to play a substantial role."

"But I wasn't willing to donate when it formed," she objects. He looks about to raise an objection of his own, so she beats him to it. "Please don't get me wrong, I have no problem with either your collecting it or using it as you see fit."

"However I see fit?" That seems... unlikely at best.

"I trust you. I definitely trust your judgment." It's casual, just a passing remark, and he can't recall anyone other than Albus ever saying anything like it and meaning it before, which she definitely does. And Albus has a number of Vows working for him that make trusting Severus something of a doddle. He reminds himself that the damnable bond between them serves much the same purpose as those Vows, its effect doubtless augmented by her naïveté, and yet that doesn't suffice to completely eradicate the sense of... acceptance her words had conjured. "But my point was I didn't even know it was a thing, or that it would form, so I wasn't a willing donor at that point in time. I couldn't have been."

"Is magic ever that simple?"

"Well..."

"Personally, I believe the intent to heal makes a difference. I don't know of a single case where a person inflicted such a wound on another and was then able to gather Ichor from it." And he is incredibly thankful that those certain parties never thought to employ Healers in their experiments, or they might still be ongoing.

"What were you telling me earlier? 'It's always the intent that counts'? Maybe it is that simple," she smiles. And now he has to wonder if it would be possible to deliberately suppress the production of the Ichor, or perhaps just the diffusion of it...

An iota of Ichor, a mite of Malus... His thoughts drift to the Invincibility Potion's antidote for a moment.

"You'd probably do well not to mention the Ichor to anyone else," he recommends, considering it all too likely otherwise.

"Because someone else might try to... extract some?" She seems duly concerned.

Merlin. He hopes not. There's a Protection Vow in play... For a moment he looks a touch green about the gills. But then he shakes his head. "No, because it's a contentious ingredient. In light of its origins, there are many who condemn it out of hand as Dark."

She looks like she could use a little more reassuring herself, so he tries to explain why he'd discounted her fear, "It's exceedingly difficult to elicit. I doubt very much that will be a problem. And if it were, you know perfectly well you may rely on my... assistance." He lifts his left hand slightly, palm upwards, and touches his thumb to his ring to illustrate his meaning. He's not accustomed to wearing jewellery, and he finds himself a little too aware of the ring for comfort. Perhaps his earlier experiments with it have called it even more firmly to mind... "The Ichor also doesn't have a fraction of the strength when it isn't procured under... cooperative circumstances."

"So did you tell me about it to increase its efficacy?" He looks at her sharply, concerned about the question's implications, but there's not a trace of blame there, only curiosity, and so he responds honestly.

"While that certainly doesn't hurt, I highly doubt it made any discernible difference. No, more crucially, there was a chance you'd have Vanished any future Ichor otherwise. This way, I stood to collect more."

She smirks, not quite buying it. "You could have just kept the Salve, you know, and then you'd have automatically been present to collect it yourself..."

"Given the extensiveness of the scar and its location, that was hardly practical." He manages to sound frightfully prim, so far removed from the 'fearsome Death Eater' he's supposed to be able to convincingly play. She knows he'd object to the trivialisation, and she accepts he'd have a valid point in doing so... But she isn't entirely wrong either.

"And yet you're willing to revisit that assessment. The best laid plans?" She grins. "Chin up. Flexibility is a sign of a superior mind," she winks preposterously winning her his very best wry look. It's incredibly... nice teasing him when he lets her get away with it. Given their circumstances, it has something encouragingly familiar about it that really buoys her spirits. It goes beyond simple audaciousness. Naturally it doesn't hurt in the least that it also has this frisson of the forbidden - who else teases the man? - that gets under her skin in just the loveliest way.

Severus couldn't begin to account for her... giddiness, never mind any of the rest of... whatever that was. He wonders fleetingly if that's a heretofore unnoted side effect of his Salve, possibly some interaction or gender specific problem, and resolves to watch her more closely.

"At any rate, asking seemed more in the spirit of the mutual respect and civility you'd proposed," he drawls, and she grins some more. She does like that he remembered that, even if he seems to bring it up mostly just to tease her.

"How would you normally come by Ichor Malus? Not you specifically, but potioneers in general?" She asks, genuinely curious but also... eager to continue their conversation as long as he's willing.

"The Healers at St. Mungo's are ideally positioned to gather it when treating the appropriately cursed patients. My Salve may yet prove useful for this application, or perhaps this was a fluke." He gestures towards her shoulder, and her finger ghosts once more over the scar. "Either way, it isn't... currently available to them, and traditional methods are often... cumbersome. Certainly... demanding. Anyone possessing the capability of releasing the Ichor from a wound would generally be knowledgeable enough to recognise the value of the ingredient when they see it. The patients, none the wiser, tend to think of it as a waste product and are conspicuously willing contributors, as it were.

"As you've seen for yourself, it doesn't yield much, but the Healers collect what they can and sell it on for a great profit. If they don't use it themselves that is."

"And just what might that use be? You said it depends on what you do with it, whether it's evil or not?" Again he waits to see if she'll tuck her hair back, and she smiles. "No, I genuinely want to know."

"You realise your ploy," he tucks his hair behind an ear again to indicate just which ploy that might be, "is increasingly unlikely to go undetected if you keep referencing it explicitly..."

"Does it really matter?" Well he should think so, at least to her. It had been her idea after all... "No, I mean, especially if I actually mean it anyway? The point was to show that shift in my thinking. If it's genuine, that can only help."

"But drawing attention to your spot of theatre makes it ultimately less likely to succeed."

"Noooo," she half temporizes, until the arguments fall more firmly into place, and then with a rush proceeds, "because at this point it demonstrates my cooperation, and at a later point, when the Loyalty Vow begins working for us, it should just suppress those bits. Moments like this. Shouldn't it? What'll be left, what should be left for anyone to see in my memories are the pieces that support our narrative."

"All well and good, but as someone with a great deal of experience with... adjusted memories, believe me, the fewer inexplicable gaps, the better. Or how would you explain them? Worse, how would you fill them? And worse still yet, how do you imagine I would know how you'd altered them to have the memories to mirror yours?" The last argument shakes her confidence some and he relents. "The less adjusting required, the better. Trust me in this."

"But then I just wouldn't have them, so yours would be the only record..."

"Were that the case - far from proven, and even further from implemented - that would only serve to highlight there had been something perceivably disloyal occurring to begin with. Or why is one to suppose you wouldn't have that memory?"

"You could have simply been maintaining your cover..."

"The more incidents, the more gaps, the more probable that answers would be sought. With no sure way of knowing how your memories have presented, any such search would prove a great threat."

Hermione has difficulty - great difficulty - giving up, and immediately seeks refuge in pressing him for agreement on some, any aspect that seems more promising. "But just the attempt, the fact I'm trying to help, it would seem to emphasise that the Loyalty Vow works as planned, doesn't it? Which was almost as important as it actually working, them believing it had..." She tells herself it isn't wheedling, but doesn't quite buy it. Her uncertainty would do little to convince him even if the argument somehow could. She feels like she's grasping at straws; he thinks she feels like doubt.

Severus huffs another dark chuckle. "I'm quite certain that has never, not once been a component of a Loyalty Vow. Ever. Else it would be classed with the Imperius. No one will expect you to begin championing my beliefs." She thinks Ron and Harry may very well be worried about just that - it would help explain some of the extremity of Ron's reaction - but doesn't interrupt. "I had told you going into this your opinions wouldn't be affected." It occurs to him that that had been before she had the benefit of the bond to test his veracity. Perhaps she hadn't quite believed him. Conceivably that should detract from her previous averral of trust. He's surprised to find that thought... disappointing. "Or do you suddenly feel pressed to agree with me?"

She looks thoughtful for a moment, as though she has to consider it. Which is patently absurd. She's argumentative by nature, and has agreed with him virtually not at all. He decides to help her along. "Potter is an unadulterated fool."

"Well he can be a bit impetuous, but... that seems unduly harsh..."

"Point made?" He asks and she nods sheepishly. First the utterly laughable prohibition of disrespectful public address and antiquated gender roles, of all lunacies, then the thoroughly gobsmacking presumptive inability to do him harm, for which he hasn't sufficiently scathing words (which is telling), now... this. Her understanding of the damnable Vow apparently remains as flawed as the Vow itself... Silently he curses Albus once again. (It seems a little excessive at this point - completely unnecessary considering the withered state of the man's arm; he's more thoroughly cursed than Severus could ever render him - but there's something cathartic in the thought, and lately it's coming often.)

"So what kinds of potions would the Ichor be used to make?" She asks, unable to puzzle out the tangle of emotions she senses at the other end of the bond. It's like trying to guess the ingredients that comprise a potion, or worse, because she isn't half bad at that, the individual spices in a meal. She simply hasn't the palate for it. When he pursues a single train of thought, she suspects he's easier to comprehend.

"One application comes to mind that befits our discussion. It can be used in a potion to cause sterility."

"In humans?" She double checks.

"Yes." It's quiet, and yet practically a challenge.

"Oh!" She smiles. Once again not the expected response. "If a woman weren't capable of carrying a foetus to term without serious risk of death for both, that would actually be a life saving potion, now wouldn't it?" She half grins while nibbling her lip, proud to have spotted the loophole. She thinks she may be getting the hang of this.

He gives her a satisfied nod. "Well recognised.

"Ichor Malus is often added to potions to intensify the effects, to make them longer lasting, even permanent. It's the fact that it's incredibly difficult, often impossible to counteract that has a way of putting it in an... unfortunate light. It's not necessarily bad, in and of itself, but one does need to be sure about what one is doing. Most people seem to like to keep their options open."

She gives him an appraising look, unsure if he's still speaking about potions. "There's nothing wrong with committing oneself to a course of action," she responds, definite but... not.

"Not if it's the right one," he slowly agrees, just as unsure if they haven't changed topics, and so instead of leaving to see to his original plans for the evening, he remains there for a while, regarding her as she sits across from him, snuggled in her blanket, still holding the collar of her blouse open and occasionally running a finger over the treated part of her scar. He assures himself, he merely wishes to see if there are any unusual reactions from the Salve. Surely that's all there's to it.


Between the Salve and her conversation with Davis and Green... Daphne this afternoon, Hermione finds she has a few questions about the potions development process. And just the person who'd know the answers seated vis-à-vis. "Assuming one meant to go public with an improvement to a known potion..." Hermione doesn't get any further before her question is greeted by a spike in anxiety across the bond.

Severus just can't believe after they explicitly discussed the dangers associated with the Salve becoming common knowledge, that she could even think about such a thing. Anger follows immediately on anxiety's heels.

She can guess the reason for his reaction and hurries to explain. "Not the Salve, obviously. I'm curious in a general sense. I was speaking to someone - else - today about potion adaptations, and between that and your Salve, it got me wondering."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, although she thinks he should be able to tell she's on the level. The problem is he can sense she's sincere, she so often is, but it isn't quite the same thing as being honest. He recognises the distinction and waits for more information before he makes up his mind on the matter.

Hermione can see how an anonymous 'someone else' might seem terribly convenient at this point, and tries to convince him with details. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but Tracey Davis has made some significant changes to Pepper-Up, and I was wondering what it would take to get that recognised?"

Merlin's blue ball sack. Particularly creative or not, the witch is definitely good for a surprise.

"If I weren't aware of it, I am now," he tells her, looking at her significantly.

Hermione thinks that's stating the obvious and doesn't quite know how to reply beyond wrinkling her brow. Just a little. Apparently it doesn't yet merit more.

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd thought they'd been doing reasonably well, too. "If the achievement had heretofore not been called to my attention, you have just succeeded in doing so. Congratulations. 'What if', Miss Granger. 'What if'. What excuse would I have for not passing this information along, and how do you imagine that might end for Miss Davis, were she to attract the... wrong sort of attention?"

Hermione pales, he finds that gratifying at least, and half stutters, "But... but you can Occlude..."

"And you cannot. We've spoken of this. As you are witness to this conversation..." And now she pinks, biting her lip. He can tell how bad she feels about this, and it mollifies him - some - but he's all too aware that will be of little consolation should the wrong people ever have an opportunity to examine the thoughts kicking about her bushy little head. He just doesn't know how to get through to the woman. No matter how sorry she is after the fact, she still seems doomed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

"Your thoughts, even your suspicions aren't any particular danger. But your memories... I can't impress upon you enough, Miss Granger, you must endeavour to exercise more caution when creating facts. I can't suppress the things you know to be true. At least not until we can be absolutely certain you'll keep them. To.

"Your.

"Self.

"Should I have to commit to a memory in advance of your gaining that ability, I could hardly risk putting forward a... redacted version."

Hermione's blush has blossomed into a deep flush, but she stops torturing her lip, lifts her chin imperceptibly and faces the challenge head on. "You didn't know about this before now, which is why you haven't reported it. You won't pass it along now as it isn't really all that important information, especially as Davis has no intention of pursuing Potions directly anyway. And you'll use not passing it along, and the lack of whatever consequences that might bring, as a measure of proof - for me - that you can be trusted. Which is why you're explaining this to me, so that I'll recognise and appreciate that fact. It's isn't because you're protecting the Order's interests. No, it's all part of how you're trying to take me in. And because of that, nothing will happen.

"Nothing will change," she asserts more definitely.

He nods, "Those are my reasons precisely. Well considered." They aren't, or weren't yet, at any rate, although they may well have been once he'd had time to weigh his options. Nevertheless, it's judicious to claim they are, and keeps her from speculating if he'd known about the Potion and how he'd have justified keeping it to himself previously. And if it serves as a low stakes test, even better. He has no qualms about his reply, none at all. His conscience, complicated as it is, is utterly clear in this regard, and he notes she doesn't seem to register anything remotely untrustworthy about his response.

Good to know.

Hermione for her part can't explain the slight hints of curiosity and subsequent relief that accompany his statement, but in the absence of even a whiff of guilt that might have helped explain the latter, chooses to focus on the rare words of praise instead. It's both easier and a good deal more pleasant.

Severus had known about Miss Davis' work, of course he had. He usually does know most of the goings on in his House, although once in a while they take him by surprise. Glittering fairy wings, for example, or Crabbe, of all students, managing a potions ring, say. With the exception of Goyle, literally anyone else in that year would have been more likely. But in broad strokes, it pays dividends to be au courrant. What he can't learn for himself, the House's elves, portraits and ghost tend to see to.

It occurs to him that there have been more surprises of late, a sure sign, were he unaware, that he's been spread too thin. He tends to discount the threat from that quarter - how much trouble can the students possibly cause? - certainly when compared to all the other things he's managing, but the abduction of Miss Granger Friday had come as an utter shock. The escalation too unexpected...

He's dropping the Quaffle.

As far as managing the Death Eaters is concerned, Severus relies extensively on Dementis and others' ignorance of just what he knows. To that end it helps - significantly - not to encourage individuals with a suspicious turn of mind to go looking for proof of what he might have known and withheld. His awareness of the pepped up Pepper Up hadn't presented a problem. There were no memories of any traitorous conversations. No longer, that is. Masterful Confundings post consultations when Miss Davis had sought his advice on one ingredient and once again later on best practices for its preparation had seen to that. She remained convinced it had been exclusively her own idea - although she'd happily credit his tutelage - but she'd most helpfully only exchanged a minimum of information on the matter. That has always been an advantage to dealing with his Snakes, they tend towards discretion and generally don't leave him with much that requires... adjusting. It's a stark contrast to the incautious Gryffindor who sits there in their lounge, grinning at him... conspiratorially.

It's an unfortunate trait, this willingness, this need of hers to share, but it's also highly inclusive, and in the face of it he softens, just a bit.

"Do try to remember: tell me nothing you wouldn't wish to risk reaching certain ears, not unless you can justify it not being passed along with that logic."


The look she gives him is stricken, "Doesn't that get lonely?"

The look he gives her is unperturbed, impassive as ever, but the feeling, the feeling across the bond... It's as though she'd struck him.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate," she rushes to add, hurrying to cover, to pretend she hadn't noticed. It nearly coincides with his, "Incredibly." And now she's unsure which utterance he was responding to. Possibly both. She can just picture him doing that, hiding one answer behind another... She worries her lip until he again takes the conversation in hand, almost casually, as though she hadn't bored in what must certainly be a terribly soft spot and then poured salt on the wound. The way she can suddenly no longer sense him once more would tend to suggest it had hurt.

"As you were interested - in a purely general sense - in what is done with potions developments, unless those improvements are of incredible significance, the short answer is: precious little." Her fingers flit across her scar again, and the silent gesture goes quite a ways to placating him further. He reads it correctly, she finds his improvements to the Scarcefier to be of just such significance. It's a balm to his ego; he's far from immune to such things.

"Whyever not?" She asks, more for the sake of playing along than to satisfy her curiosity at this stage. She's still recovering from her misstep. Missteps.

"The tried and true have the advantage of being tried and true. By definition. Any new variation on those potions might have an unexpected reaction, and then where would you be? It's the very nature of the problem that there is no ready antidote. It must be extremely worthwhile for the typical witch or wizard to even be willing to risk it. If not in its efficacy, then it must save substantial time or effort in brewing or in the cost of ingredients, say."

"And if it did? What happens then?"

"It's submitted it to a potions publication for starters. Inevitably others will then contest it and it's exposed to attack."

"Peer review?"

He chuckles, and his amusement seems genuine. Hermione gets the feeling they're back on solid ground again. "That is an exceptionally generous term for what takes place. Envious, dunderheaded lackwits try to assail one's work from all sides. Those that can, brew, those that can't, critique," he scoffs and is rewarded once again with one of her smiles.

"And on that note..." he says, rising from his chair, "there are still some things I must see to tonight." He begins to head to the door.

"What did I miss?" She calls after him. "In the Salve. What didn't I recognise?"

"Skulking Skullcap." He'd felt rather creative for that selection. To the best of his knowledge, it hadn't been tried before.

"Skullcap! I'd have never thought to add it."

He's surprised she's even heard of it. He's not sure why he decides to tell her so until she beams at him again in reply. Hmm.

Yes.

It's a good thing she's no longer in his class.


"Good night, Sir," she wishes him as he reaches their front door.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he replies before allowing the door to fall to behind him.