“beyond wandpoint” 023 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 09d Sunday - Negotiations Begin”

Severus, Albus, Hermione, Poppy

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Originally Published: 2017-11-27 on AO3
Chapter: 023

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

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"If she agrees, I need you to make it happen. Can I rely on you to do that?"

Severus nods once. It's a jerky motion that betrays just how unwilling he is, but it's all Albus needs.

"Then why don't we discuss this with her?" He asks, nodding towards the door where Miss Granger has inexplicably appeared, a cup of tea sloshing in hand which she's now trying frantically not to spill as she stares at them both in surprise.


"Sir! You're awake!" Her eyes are wide, and she's making a valiant effort to keep as much of the tea in the cup as possible. It's a decent attempt, but not quite good enough. However, once she recovers her composure, at least a little, a Tergeo quickly sorts the mess.

Severus wonders when Albus sent for her. His sleight of withered hand is getting better. And why she dared stop for tea en route...

On consideration, he decides that's highly unlike her, despite her overtly Gryffindor traits, and deduces the Headmaster had lured her here with a ruse. 'Would you kindly play house elf and fetch me some tea, Miss Granger.' 'Oh, gladly, Sir! Anything to ease the plight of an elf and help the greatest Gryffindor of them all...'

That makes Severus smirk to himself. And then wonder what the hell Poppy has given him, because he's beginning to feel decidedly... punchy. Severus begins mentally cataloguing his symptoms and tallying them in an attempt to puzzle it out.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Severus replies, once she's gotten her beverage issues managed. He's somewhat subdued, still daunted by the plan the Headmaster has suggested. "Your mastery of the obvious is commendable." Given his all too frequent lamentations over his dolt-ridden surroundings, the left handed compliment might even be half sincere.

Regardless of the potentially sarcastic response, she seems unfazed in her very evident joy to see him once again alert. "It's so good to see you recovered!" She seems to really mean it.

He lets out a huff of sardonic amusement at that. "I'm not convinced that's quite the word for it," and glances demonstratively at his body stretched out in an Infirmary bed. Strangely, she blushes in response as her eyes follow his gaze. His brow furrows slightly in confusion, but he continues, "But thank you. It's certainly welcome to have regained consciousness."

"Miss Granger, join us, won't you?" Albus asks, extending a hand towards the empty chair on Severus' right. A little shyly, but with no discernible hesitation, she enters the room, a bright smile still fixed on her face. She places what would seem to be her teacup down on the small nightstand, his nightstand, wraps the blanket lying there around her petite frame and curls herself into the chair. All in a noticeably practised fashion. Only now does it occur to Severus to wonder why Albus is seated in a chair that isn't usually present in the room, or to whom the blanket belongs. He finds it... disquieting.

It probably would come as no relief to hear the blanket belongs to Poppy. He should have more carefully phrased the question then.

No one says anything for a while.

Or so it seems to Severus. He feels a little foolish, now, thinking about his talk with Albus. It was senseless to have become riled before. He hadn't been thinking clearly, simply responding. The bonding will never happen. She'll object, he'll ruefully shake his head, and then apologetically tell Albus he had tried, sincerely tried, but it was sadly all for naught. And that will be the end of it.

And then it occurs to him that on top of everything else, he will now be subjected to watching her reaction to Albus' mad scheme. As if it hadn't been trying enough to have to seriously consider the thing himself. Her revulsion is something he can quite do without. Not that it wouldn't be a perfectly legitimate response to the thing, not at all, he's in complete agreement, but it's hard not to take that personally as well, and he can do without adding insult to injury. He's plenty injured enough, thank you very much.

When Albus still doesn't speak, Severus decides to mitigate the damage and signal the witch that he's entirely of her opinion, or will be once she forms one. His nerves drive him to take action. That in itself should make him more than a little suspicious, but then that's part and parcel of the problem.

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, the Headmaster has a perfectly dreadful suggestion he should like to present to you. Rest assured, I am neither behind this lunacy, nor do I endorse it." He manages to sound standoffish, a bit of a feat for someone still stretched out in a most undignified hospital gown, radiating need and dependence with his very appearance. He's feeling pleased with the effort.

Until he notices her reaction, that is.

He wasn't prepared to see her smile crumple in response. She seems somewhat... hurt, and a little disappointed, and he can't quite follow the logic behind the impulse.

He looks at her in surprise. Only now does it dawn on him that she might have already been informed of this wretched plan. Which means the reaction he had hoped to spare himself he has now subjected her to instead.

Cheers.

"She's quite aware of my proposal, Severus, thank you. We've discussed it at length," Albus removes the last shred of doubt.

Bugger.

Severus is off to a flying start then. Without a broom, even. Worse, apparently she's dealing with it more... elegantly than he is. By far, considering he couldn't even tell she knew about this farce.

Looking at her now, he finally notices her top is whole, of course it is, that was stupid, but it still comes as a great relief. What's less of a relief is that the thing... fits her. Remarkably well. He had been quite happy to never suspect such a curvaceous creature beneath her voluminous robes. And there she sits, inches from his bedside, how inappropriate, in a frankly flattering deep green blouse that suits her admirably and highlights... the curves he plans to continue to pretend don't exist. Particularly in light of Albus' mad plan.

The image of her in that chair from the other night comes unbidden to mind, and he thinks again how useful a mental Scourgify would be. And then begins itemising potions ingredients needed for the Infirmary's stock, apropos of nothing.

He lies there willing her to wrap the blanket around herself a little more... thoroughly. It does not have the desired effect.

She looks... tired. He feels safer focusing on that. There are circles under her eyes, and he assumes that the attack Friday has left her unable to sleep. He resolves once again to take measures against the boys. And then blames Poppy for not giving the witch some Dreamless Sleep. This is ridiculous. He'll brew some himself if need be. Of course, he had probably brewed Poppy's as well.

Miss Granger's hair is wild in that way it has of taking on a life of its own when she's agitated, crackling with involuntary magic. That should become worse in the minutes to come as they discuss Albus' abominable idea.

Severus also discovers as he looks at her that he was far more capable of considering this thing in the abstract. He'd been doing so admirably in fact, in light of the strength of his feelings about the matter. Not that he was in any shape to run away, exactly, but the notion held a certain appeal. But with the young woman sat here beside him, his student sitting there... He sees this whole scheme for the vile solution it is. He can't do this.

Absolutely not.

"Albus, she's my student. I'm afraid this is completely out of the question."

"Now, Severus, do try to be more constructive. No outright refusals, we're considering terms here. It should be of no consequence whatsoever that she's your student. There are quite a number of magical protections against abuse of power in place for just that."

He turns to Hermione in explanation, "Where there is such a conflict of interest, familial relationships by blood or marriage, there is the equivalent of a Wand Oath to compensate. Marks, punishments, even reprimands must be beyond reproach, entirely impartial in such instances," he nods sagely.

That certainly has Hermione's attention. It doesn't sound remotely like a bad thing. On the contrary, she briefly considers that might mean fairer treatment in his class for once... And then she's sorry she thought it. After all he'd risked for her... But still... There's some truth to it.

She's just deliberating saying as much, or at least that she wouldn't mind leaving it to chance then, giving it a try, when Madam Pomfrey bustles into the room.

"Severus! So good to see you with us again!"

"I never left, Poppy," he replies dryly.

"Well, that was a very good impression you made of not being with us then," she smiles at him fondly, flicks her wand and runs all manner of diagnostic tests. Off Miss Granger's hopefully raised eyebrows, she adjusts the Charm ever so slightly so the young witch can see the results as well. Her slight wink as she does so makes no sense to Severus at all.

"Oh, very good! Very good indeed!" She coos. From what Hermione understands of what she sees, not that it's much, she'd be inclined to agree, but it helps to hear it from the Matron herself. Severus' eyes tick meaningfully to the witch seated next to him, warning Poppy not to be too effusive. The Mediwitch just thinks how fortunate she is that he has no idea they were practising Charms on him the past day and a half. She bites on her lower lip, almost containing her smile.

She reaches in her pockets and draws forth a number of potions which she hands to him. He examines them one by one and then quietly takes them, pausing to consider at the Anti-spasmodic for the still noticeable results of the extremely brutal Cruciatus attack. He decides she's probably right, it's probably still necessary, and takes it as well. When he reaches the Pain Relief, he remembers something and looks up at her enquiringly as he quaffs it.

"Did any Slytherins stop by this weekend for Pain Relief Potion?" He tries to keep his tone neutral.

As everyone present is well aware of his reasons for asking, two of them take similar pains to school their expressions and study the walls. Poppy has no such compulsion and smirks as she reports, "Misses Parkinson and Davis, both Saturday morning. I sent them away empty-handed, per your instructions." Severus nods his approval. Miss Parkinson will have stopped by out of some vestigial concern for Draco. It's rapidly wearing thin. Miss Davis will have seen a problem and set out to solve it.

"Saturday afternoon we had an unusual occurrence, considering there was no Quidditch practice. Mr. Harper stopped by with a broken nose, mumbling about Bludgers, requesting Pain Relief. I told him we were currently out, as I believe you would have wanted, and offered to Stupefy him before I applied the Episkey. He declined, so I fixed it and sent him back. I hope that was alright?"

Severus gives her an impressed smile. He wonders how many Galleons had exchanged hands before Harper had agreed to that. It was no matter. The Malfoys had more than enough. There's something hard in his expression, and then it's soft, like his eyes, "Thank you, Poppy. Thank you very much. That is exactly what I wanted, and it can't have been easy for you. I appreciate it."

She shrugs offhandedly, but there's a smile playing about her lips that says she appreciates the recognition. "Well, he had no good explanation for it, and it had seemed very important to you." It certainly had. He'd been half dead at the time, and those might well have been his final words. She had no intention of not honouring his request. And a Stupefy was certainly humane enough.

She gives him an abrupt nod and then updates him on his condition. "I have no idea how you manage it, Severus. But you'll be up and about in no time."

"Back to class this week then?" Albus now asks politely, as though he hasn't eavesdropped eagerly on each word spoken before.

"Tomorrow, knowing him." Severus nods in wordless agreement. "Although it wouldn't hurt to take another day or two." Severus just stares into space as though she hadn't just spoken; he's quite proficient at expressing himself non-verbally, when he so chooses. She turns to him with an insistent look, "At least promise me to take it easy in class. Don't over do it and ruin all my hard work?"

Severus lets out another huff of amusement, thinking classes are likely to be the least of his problems in the days to come, particularly if Albus has his way, not that it's remotely likely, and readily agrees, "I'll take it easy in classes. Satisfied, Poppy?" She nods curtly, and he smiles his barely there smile at her again, "Thanks again." Hermione isn't sure if he means for the care or Madam Pomfrey's handling of the Slytherins. She suspects both.

Poppy nods at the gathered assembly and turns to leave the room, and it somehow feels a good deal emptier without her personality to fill it. Hermione can't help thinking the Matron and the Potions Master must be rather fond of one another, for all they wouldn't dream of showing it.

As the three of them find themselves alone again, Severus returns to their previous discussion. "Speaking of classes, I meant it, Albus. If we're considering terms, then there you have mine. If you insist on this solution, then she can no longer continue as my student. That's nonnegotiable. She would need to immediately withdraw from my class."

Knowing the witch in question, he thinks that should be asking more than she'll be willing to give. He's almost pleased with himself. It's an eminently justifiable objection on his part, and he's fairly confident it will lead to her equally sensible refusal.

"But, Sir," she objects to the Headmaster right on cue, "I can't allow this to compromise my schooling. Not if it comes at the cost of my education."

"I understand your concerns, Severus. And that's a perfectly reasonable objection, Miss Granger," Albus tries to reassure her. Severus can't help thinking that a reasonable objection would be that the entire plan is completely and absolutely unreasonable, but he seems quite alone in his assessment. "But I don't believe it will do so.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," the Headmaster proceeds seamlessly, utterly unruffled by their objections, "what year were you first able to successfully brew the Polyjuice Potion?" Everyone present is well aware of the answer, but that's a typical Albus ploy for you.

"Second," she's forced to admit, almost reluctantly, and she can't seem to stop sneaking looks in Severus' direction as she does so.

"Well there we have it. She'll drop your class, Severus, and prepare independently for her N.E.W.T.s," Hermione looks a trifle panicked at that until he continues, "with perhaps a little help and practice, I'm sure she'll do splendidly."

And now Severus looks a little panicked, having taken his meaning, "Now you want me to privately tutor her? On top of everything else? Marrying her isn't enough for you?"

"Come come, Severus, it wouldn't do for the wife of a Potions Master to have less than stellar marks in Potions now would it?" They both pale very noticeably at that, and it's a close thing for a moment there, her schooling being something Hermione takes very seriously indeed, but Severus has a head start on her colourwise and ultimately he wins the battle of the blanching.

In a seemingly self-satisfied swirl of smiles and twinkling eyes, Albus just says, "It's practically settled then. Shall I leave you two to speak?" and takes his leave.