“beyond wandpoint” 014 by gingerbred
Mar. 19th, 2019 07:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 08a Saturday - The Morning After”
Hermione, Poppy
Originally Published: 2017-11-17 on AO3
Chapter: 014
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
It's a brilliantly sunny day; the sky is the most stunning blue. Hermione's running through a field of wild flowers. Not from anything, no, she's laughing. Running just for the sheer joy of the movement, and having quite the giggle really. The earth is warm under her feet, and the grasses are soft against her bare legs. She stops running to twirl around, arms outstretched, getting only a little dizzy as she does so. She laughs again in pleasure, sheer silliness, watching her dress catch on the light breeze that kisses gently over her skin, enjoying the wonderful scents and the warmth of the sun on her body.
She's not alone, there's someone watching her, and she stops her spinning to smile at him. Professor Snape is standing there in the middle of the field, shaking his head at her shenanigans, and admonishing her for trampling perfectly good potions ingredients. He puts on a good show, except she can see the beginnings of a smile on his face even from here, and they've already collected everything they need, and then some, from this field, or she would never have been so reckless. And then it dawns on her: that's the reason he's pleased, that she, they, needn't be wary and careful for once. That he simply appreciates the frivolity of the moment...
That's about the time she begins to wake, as a voice in her head begins to loudly object that he's not at all fond of frivolity, and she's got that quite wrong. And she objects in reply: how would she know? She's not at all sure.
What she is is tired, and warm, and perfectly comfortable and in no hurry to open her eyes and greet the day. She comes to herself slowly, the exhaustion a little hard to shake off. It's still very dark and must be ridiculously early. Little wonder she's so tired then.
The first thing she consciously notices is the magnificent scent of wild flowers, not at all a dream, which she soon determines comes from her blanket. That becomes the next thing she's aware of, the blanket. It's incredibly warm and light and marvellously soft, like angora or cashmere or both, except of course it's probably some magical creature that Hagrid wouldn't dream of raising because it can't kill or maim you a dozen different ways without even trying.
She inhales deeply and snuggles into the soft weave. She stretches lazily and realises she's in a bed, and not her own, but she's not alarmed yet. The memories from the previous night trickle back, and she knows that someone, most likely Madam Pomfrey, has placed her in the bed. She must have fallen asleep in the chair watching over the Professor.
How is he?
That provides sufficient motivation to finally open her eyes so she can check on him and see...
He's gone.
She bolts upright to get a better look. There's no trace of him in the bed next to hers. The bed is made. There's no sign of his things. Everything's vanished. It's as though he'd never been there.
At that, a wave of panic shoots through her body. She feels physically ill. Snatching her wand, she leaps out of bed to the left, towards his, first placing a hand on it to discover it's cold and then tears off to the right, barefooted, for the office at the front of the Infirmary, practically screeching for Madam Pomfrey.
"Miss Granger, what is it?"
"The Professor! Madam Pomfrey! He's... ?" and her voice breaks and she's very clearly about to burst into tears.
"Calm yourself. Calm yourself! He's quite alright. I've simply moved him to the back room. I didn't want Minerva, Professor McGonagall, to see him like that when she comes to visit you." She affects a put upon air, but frankly she's a bit pleased at the young lady's concern. She knows already that no one other than Albus will stop by to visit Severus as he lies here, fighting for his life, yet again, and she finds that incredibly sad. It would help, of course, if anyone knew how things stood with him, although it makes perfect sense that they don't, but no one even thinks to question his absence. In fact, it's often appreciated.
The relief is plain to read on Hermione's face. It feels like she can finally start breathing again. She couldn't have taken the guilt had anything happened to him.
"It's still quite early yet. You didn't get much sleep." It's a statement and not a question. Hermione wonders if the Matron can tell just by looking at her, if she used some kind of diagnostic charm on her, or if the wards she undoubtably has in place in the Infirmary tell her that and so much more than Hermione had previously imagined. The answer is all three are true, but Poppy is a good judge of character, and knew without checking the little witch wouldn't stop watching over Severus until she could no longer keep her eyes open. She'll have been up very late indeed.
"Why don't you go back to bed and try to get a little more rest. It would do you some good," the Mediwitch suggests, almost gently. She takes Hermione lightly by the arm and leads her back to her bed, but she balks slightly when they reach the far side of the room. "Miss Granger? What is it?"
"Um... Could I... That is..." She takes a deep breath, calls to mind the desperation she had felt just minutes ago, and finds the courage to ask. "Please, Madam Pomfrey. May I see him? I... I need to know he's fine."
It's all well and good the Matron saying he's 'alright'. It's something else altogether to see that with one's own eyes. Hermione doesn't think she'll fall back to sleep until she's had visual confirmation. He's only in that bed because he came to her rescue. She needs to know he's... She'd like to know he's fine. She'll settle for seeing that he isn't in critical shape.
Poppy considers her request for a moment. It's unusual. But then, the circumstances that led to their presences here last night were also highly unusual. Thank goodness.
Truthfully, Poppy cares about Severus and she's quite worried about him. Although she understands why he maintains the image he does, she can't help but think that it would do him good to have a few more people in his corner. She hasn't meddled. She hasn't interfered. But if she can encourage the perfectly reasonable concern Miss Granger shows... Well, surely no one could take issue with that.
"Come with me then," she answers almost a little gruffly with a nod of her head towards Severus' room, and has to fight to keep from smiling when the young witch beams in response. "And get something on your feet. You'd think no one has a lick of common sense around here." She's more comfortable admonishing students, but the fact Miss Granger's smile didn't falter would indicate she's starting to see through the Mediwitch's facade. Or that she doesn't care about the rebuke, but once again, Poppy's knowledge of human nature can pretty much rule out that possibility.
Hermione summons her socks from her bed. They emerge from far under the blanket where she'd apparently kicked them off in her sleep. She pulls them on one after the other while hopping awkwardly after the Matron towards the little room the Headmaster had questioned her in last night. Again Poppy bites back her smile. Miss Granger is certainly eager. Not exactly dignified, but eager.
They stop in the doorway to his room, and the young witch stands there transfixed, staring, needing to see that he's breathing. His breathing is shallow, and they have to look closely to see his chest rise and fall under his covers, but Hermione has eyes for nothing else. It's not long before her breathing synchs with his, a sense of peace overtaking her as it does. "Let's get you back to bed, then," the Matron tells her softly, and when she leads the young woman back to her bed, this time there's no resistance.