“beyond wandpoint” 027 by gingerbred
Mar. 20th, 2019 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 09h Sunday - The Real You”
Severus and Hermione
Originally Published: 2017-11-30 on AO3
Chapter: 027
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
He's in denial. His instructions are simple: he's not to refuse this if she's willing. And somehow she is. That was... thoroughly improbable. And yet here he is. He tries to think what he has to do now, but he's coming up rather blank. He is the picture of stunned silence.
Hermione waits for a moment and then takes the initiative. "We'll need to inform the Headmaster. He said time was of the essence."
Severus feels himself blinking. Slowly. Stupidly. He wonders if this is a fugue state. How did she arrive at a 'yes'? There is no conceivable way she should have agreed to this. It was all so damning against it. He tries to think if he forgot to explain some of the drawbacks. Surely he left something crucial out. Whatever else, he'll not have it said he tricked her into this. He wracks his brain but comes up empty once more.
Eventually, he realises she's waiting for a response to something. He has no idea what. So instead he tackles something else he would have seriously hoped to have avoided. He could gladly put this off indefinitely, but he's not a coward, so he asks, "Do we need to inform your parents? Will you want them present..." He has visions of being eviscerated at the hands of an irate Muggle father. It might be preferable to going through with this.
"It won't be necessary," she immediately answers, her mouth slightly tight, but his relief is clear. She laughs to herself, thinking once again - 'some big bad Death Eater he is'. He gives her another scrutinising look, something in her features must have given her away, and she lets out a huff of amusement. She finds herself speaking against her better judgement, "How on earth do you survive as a spy?"
He raises both of his eyebrows at that and then drawls, "Conceivably, I am better at hiding my emotions when my life depends on it."
"Still, hardly the vision of a fearsome Death Eater."
He purses his lips, narrows his eyes, then gives her a slightly malicious one-sided smirk and replies, "Perhaps that's merely a ploy to convince you of my innocuousness."
When her eyes widen in an instinctive fear response, she hadn't considered that, he actually looks smugly self-satisfied. Her reaction passes in an instant, her fear yielding quickly to logic, and she's irritated with herself that she let him tease her so. He reads that easily in her face as well and has the nerve to smirk more broadly, but that just helps confirm her assessment in her own mind: this is his idea of a spot of fun. She takes note.
He returns to his initial question, reasonably certain that she isn't orphaned, or there would have been mention of the fact. "Won't they need to be informed? Surely after the fact, the information will prove even less welcome." He has a vague thought that she is just trying to put off an unpleasant conversation, but will only exacerbate the situation.
"No, Professor. We won't need to inform them."
The look of intense pain that crosses her face stops him cold. Now he's searching through his memories once more, anxiously trying to remember if there was something important, something tragic he should have associated with the Grangers... Again, he can think of nothing. He has no idea if that's because there's nothing for him to remember, of if he's just performing so poorly at the moment that it's beyond his capabilities. That thought in itself would be worrying were he more functional, but that's just the point: he is not.
So he takes the direct approach. "Why not, Miss Granger?" And she tells him very sadly what she has done, what she had undertaken this summer in an effort to keep them safe. How she had Obliviated her parents and sent them into hiding. He's appalled.
And honestly more than a little impressed.
He can see very clearly how much this has cost her. How much she misses them. Even without Legilimency. This was the desperate last resort of someone capable of loving others very much and putting their safety well ahead of her desires.
But only in part.
That's an oversimplification and a whitewash. This was also the action of someone supremely confident in her knowledge and estimation of a situation, and her resultant decisions on how to act. So much so, that she was willing to make unilateral decisions for those nearest and dearest to her. Life and death decisions, for there could be no mistaking that in almost every real sense but the biological, Miss Granger had in fact killed her parents.
To say she had done so to keep them safe is to completely ignore that they are no longer... themselves. The Grangers are by no means safe; they are gone. What she has accomplished keeps their bodies, but crucially not their selves, alive. First and foremost, what she has done removes them as leverage to be used against her, so she can blithely continue engaging in this war as she so wishes.
There can also be no denying that this was not the only option available to her. She could have left them a choice in the matter. In all likelihood, had she done so, they would have insisted on taking her with them if they were forced into hiding. Or refused to leave. This was simply the most simultaneously robust and achievable solution, given her resources, that allowed her to reach her goals. At the expense of almost everything that comprised their lives.
How absolutely... brutal. Bloody ruthless.
The fact of the matter is that she might, at least in some senses, be willing to cross lines that he does not. He's not remotely sure what to make of it.
He begins to wonder if he hasn't made exactly the same mistake he thought she would: confusing acquaintance with a person with familiarity, as he's left speculating about how well he knows her at all. In some ways, this heretofore unsuspected aspect of her personality could prove... advantageous for what they must do. He has no doubt it will complicate things as well.
A swirl of magic surrounds them again as he takes the Oath he had asked her to before, to not reveal the things they speak of here to anyone until permitted. He's certain there are a number of things she won't have made allowances for and certainly not been able to seek advice on given what she had planned. Before he makes matters worse, he decides to check the facts for damage control.
"Whom else have you told, Miss Granger?"
He can't quite place the look on her face, and she's not meeting his eyes, so casual Legilimency is out of the question. When she finally raises her head, he realises with a start: she's told no one else, and her next words, quietly, confirm it.
"No one else."
"Not even Misters Potter or Weasley?" She just shakes her head.
He's not sure what to make of her entrusting him with this information. Somewhat cynically, it occurs to him that she had been afraid of her friends' judgment. And undoubtedly in light of the things he has already told her about what he has and most probably will again undertake as a spy, she must feel he's not in a position to... criticise. It could also be that she thinks he might be better able to understand her actions than they would, but unfortunately that more generous interpretation doesn't occur to him.
Nevertheless, in view of her loss, he looks at her rather gently. He has difficulty picturing what it must have been like to have grown up loved and well-cared for as she obviously did, but he can see what this has cost her very plainly. Surprisingly softly, he asks her, "You know you can be brought up on charges for that? For tampering with Muggles?"
She nods, but reassures him, it was before the trace was placed on her wand this autumn. "Miss Granger, you must not speak of this. Tell people they have gone into hiding, if you must say anything at all, but do not reveal what you have done. It puts you at risk. You could end in Azkaban for this. Make no mistake. And sharing this puts both your parents and others at risk."
She's still lost in her sadness, thinking about her parents stirs up a lot of feelings, but his words reach her and she begins to look puzzled. He explains before she even needs to ask, "If they were being sought, if this information were known, then any Muggle suspected of being them would be at risk. Not knowing you becomes proof of identity, and I should think that applies to the vast majority of the Muggle population. This information cannot be shared."
She blinks in horror at that. That's another thing that had never occurred to her. That she could place literally unrelated, innocent third parties at risk through this... Merlin. That's terrifying. She tries to come to terms with what he has just said and simply nods. "Thank you, Sir. I hadn't considered that. I appreciate your advice."
He nods with a sense of relief. He tells himself that it's because he needn't worry about an irate Muggle father breathing down his neck, looking for blood. Or maybe even that she's capable of being this pragmatic. Such pragmatism would certainly simplify things. It probably isn't because she was so willing to listen to his advice. It most definitely isn't because doing so would keep her safer. And even if it were, that's only because if they do this thing, when they do this thing, it will make protecting her simpler.
Clearly.
A/N:
You have commenters FrancineHibiscus and Trickster32 to thank for today's double chapter. The breaks fell differently than anticipated, and I had promised the content of this chapter on Thursday, so there you have it.
See how nicely that works? ;-)