“beyond wandpoint” 025 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 09f Sunday - Observing the Social Niceties”

Severus and Hermione

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Originally Published: 2017-11-29 on AO3
Chapter: 025

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

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"Sir, what would your expectations be, beyond working to ensure the Protection Vow gets put into play as rarely as possible?"

He hasn't a clue how to answer that. Truthfully, he hasn't really given practical details that much thought, because he was certain she'd have rejected this plan by now. He blinks a little stupidly as the silence stretches.

It occurs to Hermione that he's only just regained consciousness, and this can't be easy for him either. She takes a calming breath and pretending it's the most ordinary thing imaginable, that she isn't speaking to her most notorious professor about... marrying... bonding, bonding him and moving into his chambers, launches enthusiastically into an explanation, "Well, for illustrative purposes, I could picture agreeing to treat one another with mutual respect and civility as a desirable starting point..."

She trails off, because he's got that look again. The one that indicates she resembles less and less a two-headed Zaphod Beeblebrox and is turning increasingly more into a Fluffy. Bother.

"That might prove difficult," he finally answers, so dryly as to be arid. "I am not known for my good-tempered nature. On the contrary, I am in no sense a social creature and much accustomed to seeking no company other than my own. And even I wouldn't recommend it to another." It's not entirely true, but he sees no benefit to admitting that.

She picks up again, hopefully, "Only, you've been so polite and considerate so far. I thought if we could agree to continue in much the same vein..." Her courage abandons her once more in the face of his disbelieving eyebrow. "Sir?"

"Miss Granger." There's a pause, almost as though that were sufficient, but then he continues, "You have had a dreadful experience this weekend. I like to think that even I am in a position to recognise that and treat a person so... beset with at least a degree of... consideration." He is in fact a little annoyed that that seems so improbable an explanation for his behaviour. Fortunately, his overall annoyance with the situation is so great, that it hardly registers.

"Beyond that, I can be relied upon to be as miserable and caustic as you know me to be. I can virtually guarantee after a couple of particularly enthusiastic rounds of the Cruciatus, that I won't be in any position to consider feelings. Yours or anyone else's."

"I like to think in such a case that I would manage to be understanding." She does her best to look sympathetic. She thinks for a moment and tries to be encouraging, managing only the next misstep instead. "And I believe you had just such an... experience Friday, and your behaviour was exemplary." She'd be almost cute in her cheery optimism were he the least inclined to see it that way. Unfortunately, he is not.

"My... experience, unlike yours, occurs with some regularity." She flinches just at the thought of it. She's reminded again, she really has no idea what his life is like. "While I appreciate your generous... evaluation of my recent... behaviour, you would discover such experiences typically aren't conducive to... considerate interactions.

"I should hope that Friday wasn't representative of a regular occurrence for you, or the Protection Vow shall keep me exceedingly busy. And again, I should think you can recognise that I was able, in this singular instance, to respond differently. You should not expect that to recur. Quite the contrary. My behaviour is rude and abrasive. Positively vile." It's possible the annoyance is registering after all... Markedly.

"Further, it's not simply the immediate aftermath so affected. In the face of it, it is incredibly difficult to muster any sincere interest in the trivial day to day inanities most seem to dwell on. Unsatisfactory marks? Squabbles amongst friends? Bad hair days? Merlin forfend!" She's positive that last one was added exclusively for her benefit. All that's missing is a crack about her teeth. Cauldron, meet kettle. "Somehow they fail to measure up by comparison. Not unsurprisingly, you would find me without any understanding for them."

What can she say to that? It makes perfect sense, and she doesn't doubt the truth of it. For the most part, anyway. Frankly, it explains a lot, and she's ashamed for a moment it hadn't occurred to her. She feels strikingly slow. Just two days ago, he nearly died as a result of the treatment he apparently regularly receives at the hands of the Death Eaters. And she's sitting here telling him he'll need to mind his manners. She can see how that might not go over well.

She wonders briefly how his last year compared to hers. What their years would look like mapped side by side. What portion of the time she had spent utterly miserable over Ronald and Lavender's exceedingly demonstrative displays of affection or worrying about a date for the Christmas party the Professor had spent instead being tortured and worrying if he'd survive. It certainly puts things in perspective. She wonders how he finds the patience to deal with students at all, considering...

But.

Just because he has a point, doesn't mean he's universally right. He isn't. She's sure of it. If they have to co-exist, then surely there must be rules governing their behaviour. A social contract. Well, more social then that usually implies, she supposes, but still... A little respect and thoughtfulness can go a long way. She can't imagine this will work if she's stuck in his chambers, subjected to his every unchecked flare of irritability.

She purses her lips tightly and then firmly tells him as much. "You asked that we honestly assess what we would require from each other for this to work. I should be able to do so without ridicule. I would make every effort to understand that your lack of patience and ill temper can occasionally be justified, and I would expect you to give civility an honest try the rest of the time in exchange."

Ouch. Well, he probably invited that. He's trying to decide if he would ever approve of this display of backbone, or if it simply complicates his life. At the moment, it's definitely another obstacle.

But she's still speaking, and he can't chase his thoughts further. "At least in private. I know you have an image to maintain. Along those lines, I am sure there are things you would require. To help maintain that cover, for instance. What would you need?"

He still hasn't got an answer for her. This was never supposed to have progressed this far. Still, he's trying, if only so that he can say he did when he explains the inevitable failure to Albus. "I can't anticipate what would be required to maintain that cover. I expect it depends on how it is received. We would need to be flexible." She looks a little sceptical, and he sees that it will require some explanation so as not to seem a lazy dodge.

"Unconvinced? Let's examine two variations. Keep in mind there are others, as well as shades thereof. If I paint you as Albus' spy, here to keep me in check, it puts you at greater risk, but justifies more moderate behaviour respective the Dark Lord on my part. If I can convince certain parties that this provides me instead with a chance to spy on Mr. Potter's inner circle, then that risk to you diminishes, but the moderation anticipated in my actions occurs in different instances. I might be expected to be more... pleasant in your company, but there would be less reason to refrain with the Death Eaters. Given that latter is one of the benefits we wish to achieve...

"I think we can agree it is worth sacrificing niceties if instead lives could be saved." She has the uncomfortable feeling that he is absolutely serious; this isn't remotely an exaggeration. "The behaviour we would be expected to display varies depending on the accepted scenario. I cannot at this time reliably predict what it would be. I would respond dynamically when presenting it."

"I could agree to that," she acknowledges. "But surely you have some idea of what you, personally, would require to make it feasible?"

There seems to be no getting away from the question, so he finally relents and gives it some thought. "I would expect you to refrain from negative or disrespectful commentary in public. To demonstrate a modicum of loyalty. I think it would be expected that I demand it no matter which explanation we employ for this... arrangement."

"Loyalty?" She sounds a little incredulous. Really, she's just confused. It's covered by the Vow anyway, and she doesn't understand why that would be his condition.

He misinterprets the reason for the question, and his patience is already more than exhausted. Just as acerbically as he said he'd be, he snaps at her. "Yes. Loyalty. Don't slag me off in public. How hard is that to understand?"

And then she laughs. That just angers him more. Now that she knows what to look for, she recognises that every now and again his Muggle background comes peeking through, and yet when it does like just then, it catches her by surprise. This seems so incongruous...

"Sir," she smiles warmly at him, and his flash of annoyance at her laughter begins to abate, "I never have. That certainly wouldn't change under these circumstances. I just don't understand that you'd make that a requirement though. I thought it would be covered by my Vow?"

"I'm fairly certain that's not what's covered by a Loyalty Vow. That's about not revealing my secrets, which given my... position seems only sensible. With those circumstances, the role I play, we couldn't do this at all without that restriction. But the Vow in no way impacts your opinion, and doesn't do much to keep you from expressing it. I would... request the public appearance of respect."

"An interesting counterpoint to my request for the reality of it in private." She reflects on that for a moment and then suggests, "But I could be satisfied with only the appearance of it instead, if that makes it easier?"

He nods reluctantly in answer.


"So the Loyalty Vow isn't some underhanded way to sneak in some old fashioned, latently misogynistic views on, um... marriage..." She ventures to ask. The fact she's asking him and apparently willing to consider trusting his answer as opposed to Albus' is the only thing that keeps Severus from tearing her head off. Not that he's the soul of patience when he replies.

"Miss Granger, it's not a relationship. I don't know how to be clearer. As to any outdated gender roles that may concern you, what do you want me to say? 'Don't be ridiculous?' No. You won't be expected to cook for me. Ever."

"Believe me when I say that's in your best interest, Sir," she can't help mumbling, but he's still speaking as though she hadn't said a thing.

"Or clean. Or do laundry. Or whatever else is part and parcel of your nightmare vision of domesticity. I will expect you to be a considerate flatmate; that is the sum total of the demands I would place on you. Ah, and you will have to co-exist with a house elf," he can't help twitting her, remembering the S.P.E.W. débâcle rather clearly, and is almost disappointed when that fails to get a reaction from her.

"But he is remunerated and most certainly not abused," he finally admits almost grudgingly.

"If we both survive this war, which isn't probable, I'd certainly never stand in the way of any career plans you had. I honestly can't even think of any other objections, which may even speak for me, depending on your perspective. Or perhaps I am such a caveman as to be unaware of the issues, whichever... If you have any other concerns along those lines..." He can't believe he's having this conversation, and wonders if he's still unconscious. It's really the only satisfactory explanation for it.

He considers briefly if one can apply the Sectumsempra to oneself. He could just slit his throat and be done with it. It would probably simplify things greatly. A great many things...

She has two further concerns, neither of which she quite has the courage to mention. That should tell her very clearly what a bad idea this thing is, but her ears are tuned elsewhere. The first, the decidedly non-trivial issue of family planning, seems fairly irrelevant given his very clear position on ever having intercourse with her and his disinclination to seriously consider the remotest possibility of surviving the war.

Then, too, she herself has nothing constructive to add to the topic. Her position is basically: if at all, not for a very long time, and relatively few? Maybe? That's just it, she really hasn't got an answer of her own. But then she'd hardly needed one. She wasn't sexually active, she wasn't even dating, so she certainly hadn't been considering marriage or a family.

The other issue would be the possible usage or retention of her own last name, but here too her feelings are completely ambivalent. This seems like something only worth discussing in the event both of them survive. Which is apparently very unlikely. Cheering thought, that. Or perhaps when she decides she does feel more strongly about it, one way or the other. But certainly not now.

So she just shakes her head and answers, "No further concerns, Professor; it's the same ones. The concept of a Geas leaves me very uncomfortable. The Headmaster hadn't really explained the mechanics of the Vows, and I admit I find it... alarming."


He looks at her contemplatively for a long time. It's a very appraising look, and as he does, a few things become clear to him. She's just as likely to agree to this for the wrong reasons as she is to reject it for the wrong reasons. Perversely, neither of those possibilities suits him.

She's seriously considering rejecting this plan due to concerns for his autonomy. That's completely wrong. It's one thing to reject Albus' harebrained plan on its own merits, or decided lack thereof, but he doesn't need her making the decision for him like one of her slow-witted friends. He has placed entirely too much faith in Albus speaking clearly with the young woman before him.

And the other thing is that he has allowed her continued presence here, her willingness to consider this at all, to fool himself that she isn't revolted by him. The most frightening issue was never sharing his quarters. They are unobjectionable. It was sharing them with him that makes the difference. Being bonded to him, of all people. And one thing he is certain of, she doesn't see him for who he is. She's confused recognition of a person with knowing them. She's a potentially traumatised young woman told she can do a favour for her 'saviour' with this small service. She needs to understand, to clearly see the clay-footed man before her.

He intends to see that she does.