“beyond wandpoint” 024 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 09e Sunday - Negotiations”

Severus and Hermione

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Originally Published: 2017-11-28 on AO3
Chapter: 024

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

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And so the two are left, alone in their little room, with absolutely no idea what to say to one another. It seems rather a while before either of them is willing to even try to look at the other. Eventually they begin to steal glances, but both seem intent on averting their eyes the moment they have the vaguest sense the other could look up and meet their gaze.

After some time, Hermione starts, gives herself a shake and then thinks to offer, "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Would you like some tea, too, Sir?" Before he can even respond, she's called for Polly and asks for tea for the man, and soon his cup of steaming tea is next to hers on the nightstand. And still neither makes a move for their cup.

Eventually, Severus, having noticed that her lip has been healed since Friday night, of course it has, takes the initiative and breaks the silence. "I wanted to apologise, Miss Granger, for not healing your lip." It's hardly earth-shattering, but it's a beginning.

She just stares at him, gobsmacked and blinking. She can think of dozens of other things she should be saying, 'thank you for rescuing me', 'sorry you almost died in the process', but that seems the most ridiculous opening imaginable for the conversation that needs to take place.

When she doesn't respond, he finds himself trying to explain his inaction, "It was that or clean up the blood, and I thought the blood was potentially more important. More traumatising."

She does find a response to that. "Sir, considering the condition you were in, both healing my lip and removing the blood were anything but necessary..."

"As the one who was looking at you, I can assure you both were necessary. Very much so. But I simply hadn't the reserves left for it, and frankly, Poppy's Episkey is better than mine. She does better work healing." He permits himself a closer look, "There's not even the hint of a scar. No one will ever know." What's clear is that he's desperately trying to reassure someone, but oddly neither one of them finds themselves quite sure which of them he's so eager to convince.

"Professor, I can't thank you enough for coming to my rescue..."

"Think nothing of it, Miss Granger. It was a given. I can't apologise enough for the treatment you received at the hands of members of my House. It was shameful, absolutely shameful. If I can do anything further for you, kindly let me know. I am at your service."

"But, Sir... Sir, as I understand it, it seems you're already being asked to do something for me again. This idea of the Headmaster's..." she trails off, her courage failing her, candidly too embarrassed by what's apparently being required of him for her sake to even speak of it.

"Are you even remotely considering it as a possibility?" He asks simply. She nods, but still can't bring herself to talk about it. That bodes well... "Then we probably have much to discuss before a decision can be taken."

He sighs. He's still in bad shape. He feels like he's been through the mangle, which is near enough to the truth, all considered. This was the last thing he'd have thought to be faced with when he woke, but he knows what is expected of him, and at the least, this conversation needs to take place. He shall make an honest effort. With luck, that will send her scurrying off, but he has resolved to do this properly and emerge with a clean conscience.

He tackles what he is sure will prove the most problematic aspect first. There's no point in discussing this further if she can rule it out immediately. Given that she is actually here, speaking to him about this, the two most difficult points seem... addressed for the moment. But he is quite certain the cowardly Headmaster will have made no mention of the necessary living arrangements to her and left that particular joy all to him.

He can't help sighing again. Then he just bites the proverbial Muggle bullet. "Did the Headmaster tell you that you would be required to move into my chambers?" The flash of panic she completely fails to hide answers that in the negative more plainly than words ever could. Bloody marvellous. "The nature of the Protection Vow makes anything else effectively unpracticeable. That is apparently a firm requirement. We would have no choice."

She swallows and takes several moments before she speaks. He decides he greatly prefers that to histrionics, and is relieved when she does speak that she's able to sound so calm. "Um... Sir, I can't imagine you want a roommate?"

"Miss Granger!" He sounds a bit scandalised, which given his frankly dark reputation strikes her as amusing, "You will of course have your own room."

"Um..." and she immediately resolves to say that less often, thinking it makes her sound so... immature. She bites her lip instead and then tries again, "Alright, rephrasing, I doubt you want a flatmate either."

"It's rarely about what I want," disgruntlement carries clearly on his answer, and she recognises the sad truth in it immediately. She feels incredibly guilty about this whole arrangement. Of course her next concern just makes things worse.

"Speaking about what you want, Sir, and I apologise for broaching this so... baldly. But I think it's better we speak openly before taking a decision, to ensure as few misunderstandings and grounds for friction as possible." He just nods, not blessed with much patience for waffling, and then she stuns him by abruptly coming to the point, "Sex?"

He practically chokes. He preferred the procrastination.

"Absolutely not! It should go without saying, Miss Granger, but to be perfectly clear, this isn't a relationship. Sex is completely out of the question."

She can't help but be just the slightest bit offended at his unwavering certainty on that point. Not that she would have welcomed a response in the affirmative in the least, well, not now, of course not, but still, his complete conviction is somewhat... off putting. Reflexively she grumbles, "A little less vehemence might have been nice..."

He just stares at her like she's grown another head. If he weren't already planning to kill Albus at some point, he would begin considering it now. Very seriously.

Completely unaware of his thoughts, for her part Hermione smoothly transitions to smiling, almost having to suppress a giggle, because he had phrased it as being out of the question because this wasn't a relationship. As though that were a prerequisite for sex. For a dreaded Death Eater, that's the second cause to doubt his... dread-worthiness that he's provided within a minute. She decides nerves are making her a little giddy, and she desperately needs to rein it in. But really, the utter absurdity of the situation isn't helping.

He gathers himself and then sighs, yet again. He seems to be doing a lot of that. He preferred being comatose, but this matter is just too important to allow her to proceed unless she truly understands all the implications and ramifications, at least as far as they can be projected at this time. In light of that, as loathe as he is to continue this conversation, he digs deep, very deep, and tries again.

"Unfortunately, it's not just out of the question between us. The whole point to the protections the bond is meant to provide is to make that an impossibility with anyone else. And it will. With a vengeance. As such it is perhaps sensible to enquire, are you currently in a... relationship?"

She stands corrected, the conversation just managed to become even more absurd. So much so that she almost has to laugh at the question. "No, most definitely not."

Not for the first time, he can't help thinking that teenage boys exhibit a special sort of idiocy without peer in nature. Case in point, before him sits an unquestionably intelligent and reasonably attractive young woman, and he wonders fleetingly why there isn't anyone of significance in her life. Or perhaps there's a problem just waiting in the wings... He really doesn't need the aggro with everything else on his plate.

Sighing again, and immediately resolving to try to do that less frequently, he sounds positively asthmatic, he perseveres, "And there are no suitors we can anticipate to attempt make this even more difficult for us?"

She hesitates a moment before firmly answering, "No one in whom I am interested."

Right there is probably the answer to his question. He knows from first hand experience, it isn't easy, when one is so gifted, to find someone suited. Yet her answer feels both truthful and evasive, so he waits her out with nothing more than a raised eyebrow, and she eventually amends, "But I can't promise no one would have issues with this and cause problems either."

So perhaps someone waiting after all. He suspects Potter or Weasley, both of them given to sniffing about her skirts for years now. "Fair enough. You are not responsible for the actions of others, nor can you control them. I would, however, ask that you not... fan any potential fires."

She smirks at that, but agrees wholeheartedly. "I can guarantee I would not do such a thing."


He's trying to be tactful. It really isn't his strong suit. He's not sure he should mention it at all after Friday's assault, but it's something she needs to think about. This could affect her longer term. She needs to be sure. "I can imagine that celibacy isn't a pleasant prospect at your age..."

She's not quite willing to say that she is in fact not the least bit pleased about the prospect of dying a virgin. She just can't. How could she? For gods' sake, she feels uncomfortable with thoughts about death in general, hers specifically, about somehow managing to lose her virginity after all, certainly after the events of Friday, or the potential implications, were they to in fact go through with this, that he... That she could expect... might expect... No. No, there is nothing but discomfort here. Lots of discomfort. Pure mortification. This particular line of thought will most definitely not be pursued. Ever.

Certainly not now.

So she deflects, "I imagine it isn't a pleasant prospect at your age either."

"Indeed it isn't. I believe I told Albus as much rather directly," he smirks at the memory, a small balm. "I won't lie, that wasn't remotely welcome. But it isn't everything.

"You need to be absolutely certain if we were to go through with this. There are no 'second thoughts'; there can be no changing one's mind. The protections this offers it can do so only because bonds such as these are irreversible. Were they easily dissolved, neither of us would be protected."

"I understand, Sir."

He's not entirely sure that she does. She's been through quite a bit in the past few days and seems far too calm to his way of thinking. This is a horrible idea they are considering, and he doesn't understand why she's still here talking to him about it. She should have run off screaming by now. He's calm, naturally, but he has a great deal of experience with his life going to hell.

There can be no question that she's still fairly fazed from Friday, but he discounts, or perhaps just fails to consider, that her intelligence, much like his, provides her with the resources to think this through instead of just emotionally responding. And she's had more than a day longer than he has to do so. The Calming Draught is definitely a help. It also doesn't occur to him that she has been dealing directly with the threat of the Dark Lord since she was only twelve, that she faced a mountain troll at that age or fell victim to a basilisk only a year later. She's battled adult Death Eaters in life and death situations more than once, and just this summer she was in at least one skirmish that claimed lives. She has more than a little experience with things going to hell, too.

"There are some very real related concerns, and we need to speak of them. May we?" He looks at her until she is able to calmly meet his eyes and nods, and then he proceeds.

"There is a possibility, that in order to release either of us from this bond, someone might be willing to... eliminate the other. One might hope members of the Order wouldn't resort to such methods."

She can't suppress a wry grin at that, and then impishly counters, "With Mr. Moody no longer among us, I imagine your chances against them resorting to such means have greatly improved." She wonders briefly at her insensitivity, taking this as further proof that she's overwrought. But somehow his dry sarcasm seems to call for an echo, and she finds herself responding. And almost enjoying it, she thinks guiltily.

Nevertheless, he agrees with her assessment completely, which he acknowledges with a slight nod and curl of his lip. "As for the... opposition, the Headmaster believes that I might be seen by the Death Eaters as too valuable to sacrifice for that purpose."

"Then we should hope that he's correct." She gives him a small, almost reassuring smile, clearly not entirely convinced, yet intending to show support, but he can't help thinking that's truer than she knows. He could name a few who would gladly Avada him where he stands. Or lies, as the case may be. And that with no added incentive at all... "But what's to stop them from trying to free you?"

'Primarily the fact no one would care to', is his first thought, which remains unshared. But it's definitely a legitimate concern, one he had only just voiced to Albus, and he's pleased it's occurred to her on her own. It simplifies things greatly if he needn't explain both the problems and their solutions to her. He wishes Albus could be relied upon to do so.

"The most likely reason for that course of action would be to free me from any... restrictions. As such, the thinking is that the Vows could be worded so that there is a very credible threat to my well being if anything were to happen to you," she pales immediately at that, "in which case the drawbacks would outweigh the benefit to them."

Naturally, they have no intention of wording it that way, but she needs to believe it if they are to sell this idea to the Death Eaters. Her memories, her understanding of the situation needs to reflect that, should she ever be subjected to Legilimency. On the other hand, he won't have to sell the idea to anyone if she rejects it for something that would never happen anyway. It's a delicate balance.

He tries to assuage her worries with a bit of wry humour. "So I would also have to ask that you endeavour not to expire before me, if at all possible."

She smiles in answer. "I'll make an effort then, for your sake, if not for mine." She actually winks. Cheeky thing.

"You're too kind, Miss Granger." That might even be a small smile on his face. She thinks it could be a first. "I mentioned it primarily to let you know there is a very slim chance, although decidedly less likely, that something could likewise happen to you if I die, which isn't altogether unlikely. The hope, I gather, is that you wouldn't be similarly affected because the Vows wouldn't be symmetrical."

"Sir, I should think the hope is that you don't die?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, but you did agree to discuss the possible ramifications. That might be the hope, as you say, but sensibly we have to discuss likelihoods..."

"You're right, I apologise. It's still all rather new and I am having some trouble adjusting. Alright, fine. I'll accept that as a possibility." She turns it over in her mind. "Realistically, one of the reasons Professor Dumbledore suggested this solution is because I am apparently at great risk, potentially..." to her credit, she only wavers for a moment, "potentially of not even surviving otherwise. Do you agree with that assessment?"

He's thrown momentarily that she should seek confirmation from him, as though the Headmaster's word were insufficient and anything he could add would make a difference, but answers truthfully, "The threat is real. You are at risk."

"Substantial risk?" He nods. "And this bond should provide a marked degree of safety for me?"

He nods again. Decisively.

"So if it would it do so without putting you in more danger in the process, then the added risk the bond brings would seem to be more than counterbalanced, and that risk is acceptable. At least from my vantage point. Does it put you in danger?"

He hesitates for a moment. He's not entirely sure if he should answer that correctly. He has an assignment he's meant to fulfil... But he also can't see doing something like... this on the back of a lie.

"The honest answer is: that's fairly complicated, and the short answer is most likely 'yes'. But of course it's not remotely simple. You shouldn't underestimate the significance of the protection the Fidelity Vow affords me. Professor Dumbledore has explained what that does for me?" She nods. "You'll have to accept my assurances that for me that is worth other sacrifices."

They sit there is silence as she mulls over what that might mean in concrete terms. When he sees she isn't going to question it, he moves on to the next item.


"There's a different aspect that you need to understand for us to move forward. Do you know what a Geas is and how it acts?" When she nods again, he goes on, "Then you'll understand that the Protection Vow is effectively a Geas, it would obligate me to act. There is no choice involved at that point. That can prove exceedingly dangerous, and we would need to keep a close watch on circumstances likely to trigger it. Both of us would have to agree to modify behaviours that would otherwise force it into play.

"Further, I can... conceive of situations where you might find it... invasive or inappropriate. Particularly as we are not in a... relationship. Consider that acknowledged, but also that acknowledgment irrelevant.

"You need to be clear, there would be no negotiating, because the actions cannot be changed or helped. They are not voluntary. They are compelled. They simply... are. If you can't accept that, we can't do this." She looks at him a little unsure, but tentatively nods, at least in understanding if not approval.

"I would very much appreciate not being forced to act against my will more than absolutely necessary. I would also consider it primarily your duty to see to it that it happens as infrequently as possible."

She looks more than a little horrified at the idea. "You make it sound like you'd be nothing but a marionette!"

"There's an element of truth to that, hence why I'd like for it to happen very rarely. As I believe I mentioned." There goes his sardonic eyebrow again. She can't believe how collected he seems.

"And the protection the Vow provides you with is worth that to you?" She asks in clear disbelief.

He's a bit slow to answer, but finally shrugs slightly and adds, "That, and helping to ensure your safety is also a worthwhile goal."

She's shaking her head, obviously uncertain.

He continues, "Believe me, being forced to act would prove difficult enough for me. What I would need from you in return in such an event is that there can be no disapproval, no arguing, no recriminations after the fact. It would exacerbate an already only barely tenable situation. Is that in the realm of the possible?"

She finds herself hesitantly nodding, but patently unconvinced as a whole.


He realises he's scaring her off for entirely the wrong reasons, and course corrects. "I seem to have approached this unfortunately. Shall we agree to honestly assess what we would require from each other for this to work, and then we'll each make the decision based on whether the benefits outweigh the costs for ourselves... individually? I can't begin to gauge what this means for your life; I would appreciate it if you didn't try to do so for mine.

"Make your own decision, not with respect to what you think it means for me. You can't accurately judge; that must be my lookout. Don't presume to know my needs and priorities, and I shan't presume to know yours."

His tone is not unkind, but the words shake her up a little. It's easy to forget in the surrealness of all of this, as they sit here casually discussing serious, irreversible changes they might undertake together to their lives, but they are neither friends nor confidants. He's right, she can't even begin to judge what this means for him. She's so used to trying to optimise decisions for her friends, that she had automatically slipped into that mode of thinking: what would be best for him? Honestly, she hasn't an inkling.

"Sir, you're basically saying that if you were in the middle of Potions class, and I were attacked by a bunch of Death Eaters, you'd have to drop everything and come to my aid and meanwhile Neville could blow the whole room sky high. You wouldn't be able to prioritise."

He doesn't point out that the same could be true if she were having a sufficiently bad day, no Death Eaters required. She's overly worried about the wrong things as it is.

"Fortunately, Mr. Longbottom is no longer in my class, as you well know, but I assume you are using him as a placeholder for some other dunderhead. For example a fourth year Hufflepuff who reminds me all too much of Mr. Longbottom for comfort. But in essence, you are correct. Nevertheless, if they were to blow themselves up, let us agree that they probably deserve no better."

"And innocent bystanders?" She reproves.

"In my experience truly innocent bystanders are incredibly hard to come by," he answers serenely.

She won't let him make light of this. "And if there's no chance of success, you'd still have to try? Endanger yourself needlessly?"

Once again there's a slight shrug and a nod. It's very understated. She's extremely uncomfortable with the idea that he could be seriously hurt or killed for no good reason. For her sake. This is madness.

She's again on the cusp of rejecting this for what he considers the wrong reasons, and he takes another stab at lightening the mood. "So you can appreciate that I would prefer not to be called in for a disagreement with your..." and he pauses fractionally as he realises he has to qualify the description, and this is probably the moment the consequences of what they're discussing, what they mean to do, become most real for him, "erstwhile roommates about the latest issue of 'Witch Weekly'."

She puts on a look of mock indignation, "Pure rubbish. I wouldn't dream of reading it!" But then smirks in return, "Point taken, Sir."

He's primarily relieved that she didn't even blink at his clumsy reminder that she'd be forced to live in his chambers. In fact, she's really only balked due to concerns for his safety. It certainly speaks for her. For the first time he finds himself thinking: this may actually happen.


Merlin.