“beyond wandpoint” 030 by gingerbred
Mar. 20th, 2019 03:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beyondwandpoint“11 09k Sunday - Bonded”
Severus and Hermione, Albus, Poppy
Originally Published: 2017-12-03 on AO3
Chapter: 030
Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
She sees him begin to pitch forward and Friday night comes flashing back. She can't believe he was allowed to bond her if he's this badly off. On closer consideration, that joke about her presence making him weak in the knees... That wasn't like him at all. He was obviously just struggling to put on a brave face for something he apparently had absolutely no desire to do. He must have been blind with anger and loathing at the thought of what he was being forced into, if this is how he feels, and he very clearly isn't anywhere near recovered.
As he falls, she instinctively reaches out to catch him. He's heavier than he looks, apparently all muscle and bone, and she throws her whole body into trying to hold him upright, clutching him to her. She can't hold him like that, and he's slipping down her front. She grabs him tighter, and she hopes he isn't aware of her effectively crushing him to her breasts. No, not at all embarrassing given how much he loathes her. He'd probably be furious, if he knew, at being pawed like this.
Before he can slide much further down, Madam Pomfrey is at her side and waving her wand and the man is Mobilicorpused once more into the bed the Headmaster has summoned from somewhere. Then Professor Dumbledore Accios a phial and magics the contents away, presumably administering some potion to the Professor as the Matron gets him sorted. A few more flicks, and his robes are removed and he's back in the hospital gown. He looks like he's in bad shape.
From the noises the Mediwitch is making, the young witch gathers the Professor is expected to sleep for a while now. He certainly looked like he needed it, and the poor man had only been conscious a couple of hours. He really can't be in any shape to have made life altering decisions.
With a sense of rising panic, she realises he'll doubtlessly eventually feel he was coerced. That she had taken advantage of him. He risked his life to save her, and here she is, letting him be used like this. Using him like this. What kind of person is she?
Hermione could cry. She could burst into tears right here and now, except she doesn't care to in front of the Headmaster, and she's not entirely sure how she feels about crying in the Matron's presence either. Madam Pomfrey can be so terribly matter of fact... She's rarely all that nurturing. Which makes the care she takes with Professor Snape all the more odd, really, although theoretically Hermione likes to see it. Both because it's nice to know someone is taking care of him, and because it makes the Mediwitch seem more human. That's all in theory.
Practically, however, at the moment Hermione doesn't care about any of that. She's just been bonded to someone who finds her revolting. Or the notion of the bond to her, it's frankly hard to tell, and she's not sure it matters. Revolting. That's... that's... well, it's certainly harsh.
To think she'd, however briefly, entertained the thought of seducing him. In the very distant future, naturally, but still... She'd clearly have her work cut out for her, she thinks in wry, self-deprecating amusement. Revolting. Revolting!
It's first year all over again, nightmare, and she finds herself wanting to run off to cry in the loo. Nothing's changed there. Except she imagines the chances for bonding over a troll attack this time around are slim. Great gods, what have they done?
She needs to get out of the room; it's getting smaller by the moment. She turns and makes a mad dash towards the larger outer room. She pushes past the Headmaster, unseeing, and tumbles out, gasping for air that somehow doesn't seem to want to fill her lungs.
Albus finishes summoning the remaining furniture and returns the room mostly to rights. After exchanging a few words with Poppy, asking her to call for him when Severus wakes, Albus follows the young woman out of the room. She seems to be having some sort of fit. The shock of the emotional bond appears to have done quite a number on both of them, Severus especially in his weakened condition. But he could hardly have prepared them for it in advance; they'd never have have agreed.
He summons another Calming Draught which he hands to the witch, she doesn't even bother looking at it, that's evidently how much she trusts him, she just downs it in one. Perhaps handing her a poison seems trivial in light of what he's just talked her into doing, or maybe she thinks they haven't got any in the Infirmary's stores. When her breathing finally returns to normal, he places a finger gently under her chin and tilts her face so their eyes meet, and with a silent Legilimens, he dives into her thoughts.
They're murky, indeed.
Professor Dumbledore seems to be speaking to her, Hermione has no idea what he's saying. She must have said something, answered... She supposes this is shock. But the Headmaster is answering, "He doesn't hate you, you know. The solution, the situation, certainly, but not you."
Eventually she feels calm enough to believe him, she gets the sense he's repeating himself, until she understands, "He doesn't hate you." When she seems willing to tentatively accept that, he proceeds, "Give him a chance to adjust, it's rather a lot to process."
She nods a little weakly, and then he continues, "Are you sufficiently recovered to help me?"
She tries to parse the question. He doesn't need her help, whatever it is, he can most likely do more than she will ever be able to. At best, he needs her compliance, her further obedience. Sure enough, when she meets his eyes, enquiringly, he explains, "It appears the situation is quite complex. Beyond the Loyalty Vow, I would like to expand on the Oath you took to not speak of the events of Friday, or in any way reveal them, to anyone not in the know."
She can't imagine why it makes a difference. The Loyalty Vow should have covered whatever was necessary. As though reading her thoughts, and possibly he was, he explains, "Such Vows are complicated. Where certainty is required, it is... wise to be overly cautious. This is crucial to the business of the Order. We need this," he insists. She fails to see how.
But she also really doesn't think it will make any difference given the Vow she took, and somehow the Headmaster's requests seem to lack the component that would make them appear... optional. It feels more like politely worded marching orders, and she wonders if this is how Professor Snape feels, and just where one ends after decades of this. Some impudent part of her brain supplies the answer: in hospital.
Nevertheless, she complies. A small flare of magic around her hand later, the Oath is sealed.
As she rubs her wand arm with her left, it's purely psychological and not physically necessary, she finally notices a small band has appeared on her ring finger. It's the smallest, thinnest ring she's ever seen, almost threadlike, and she can't imagine it won't break the first time she snags it on something. It's also incredibly dark, and... dull. It just sits there swallowing light, as though the metal were tarnished beyond recognition. Apparently that's her wedding ring. Brilliant.
Albus can read her thoughts all too clearly, he doesn't even need Legilimency for it. He'd feel sorry for her, if that weren't such a luxury he can't afford, and ultimately, he really is sure, this scheme of his is far more likely to ensure her survival. That must be preferable, even in the light of the measures required to do so. Isn't it?
"I'll be back later to check on his progress," he tells her gently as he stands to leave. She's still staring at her hand like it's a foreign entity and might bite her. He isn't even sure she heard him.
When Hermione finally pulls herself together a while later, she's alone in the room. The Headmaster must have left. She's at sixes and sevens, not quite sure where she should go now. She realises that she is expected to move into his quarters when he's released, but that she could hardly do so without him. She still can’t talk about what happened, thanks to the Oath, or maybe the Vow, or possibly both, which makes the thought of encountering anyone highly unappealing. She has no desire to lie, and no way to make anyone understand.
She hardly understands any of this herself.
In the absence of better ideas, the habits of the last couple days lead her back to... her bondmate's side. Madam Pomfrey is also long gone. Apparently Hermione had been... distracted longer than she knew. A Tempus confirms it. The room has been restored to it's previous condition, except that someone seems to have placed her bouquet in a crystal vase on his bedside chest of drawers, and there are still a few sweeps of flowers around the window.
She summons her clothes and, reflexively checking he's still out, which she somehow feels but doesn't yet trust, she changes back into her Muggle kit. She carefully pockets the Mediwitch's jewellery to return to her later, wrapping it in a bit of batting she summons. Not knowing the Charms to undo hair and makeup, she leaves them; they weren't too over done anyway.
It might be a subconscious choice, but in the face of his rejection, she feels better about being at least a little prettier than usual. Perhaps not by coincidence, she's selected her best fitting pair of jeans available and the nicest top, the dark purple lace one Madam Pomfrey had made for her yesterday. Undeniably, it does a little something for her confidence. She once again takes the seat beside his bed and settles in with some reading material. As though this were the most natural thing in the world.
A wand flick and 'Accio' summons her books from where they were stowed in the cupboard along the far wall. She and her... bondmate are sharing it. She scans them to recall to mind what homework she should do, and with something that broaches on an hysterical titter, she realises she needn't complete her Potions' assignment. She sends that text floating back to the cupboard with a Depulso and a sweep of her wand. Charms, Ancient Runes, Defence. Charms and DADA were done, they were both two hour practical sessions tomorrow, and she was more than prepared.
Or had been Friday. Today she's not sure of much.
Runes it is then. Another swish and flick and 'Wingardium Leviosa' has the text floating in front of her and she gets to work on her scroll. Some arbitrary number of inches on some random Rune no one wants to use anymore... She can't muster much enthusiasm for it, but she keeps at it.
He sleeps fitfully, waking briefly now and again. Dimly, he's aware he's not alone, but he never bothers to check. He just can't be arsed. He's hoping it's Sunny. He knows it's not. The ceaseless scratching of a quill on parchment is probably a pretty good indication of that. Sunny never touches the things.
And of course the emotional flashes they each get from one another whenever he wakes are also damn good indicators that it isn't the house elf seated at his bedside.
Both pretend not to notice.
One of them's despondent. Probably her. Or maybe both of them, actually. Someone's still ashamed. Definitely her. There's the revulsion... Still him. It's hardly encouraging, any of it. What he doesn't understand is why she's still there. She should have left and...
And what? He hasn't the vaguest idea. Either where she should have gone, or what she should have done, or what difference it might have made. He wonders if the feelings would come through as strongly were she physically more distant. He's eager to try, if only because her absence would be preferable. Still, he suspects it won't make a bit of difference to what they can sense, but makes a note to test it.
When he finally wakes sufficiently that they're no longer able to pretend he hasn't, she addresses him, "The Headmaster wished to speak to you when you woke. Shall I Floo him for you, or would you like to wait a little longer?"
It's considerate enough. She isn't just doing as Albus asked, but leaving him some say in this, and he appreciates it. Unfortunately, he's so accustomed to being Albus' whipping boy, that it hadn't even occurred to him to stall. There's hardly any need anymore. The worst has been done. He's used to that, too.
"No, thank you. That won't be necessary. If you could please Floo him now?"
"Certainly, Sir," she answers politely as she rises to leave. She may have been right, he thinks, that honouring social conventions as far as manners are concerned goes a way to making coexistence a sight more tolerable.
Albus must have been waiting for him to wake, because the witch doesn't return; he wafts in instead. Like a foul smell, Severus thinks. He may still be bitter at having been forced into bonding a student. If mean thoughts help cheer him any, he feels he's entitled.
Her book hovers there in the air next to his bed, a silent reminder that she truly is just a student, and Albus' solution is vile. He keeps staring at it while Albus natters on. The old man wants something... Ah, the colleagues will have to be informed tonight. Splendid. He wonders when he can expect a visit from Minerva. He could probably set his Tempus by it. Potter and Weasley will be informed before the rest of the student body. Ducky. It's unclear when that will take place. Severus can't bring himself to care.
Albus pushes off, probably to brief Miss Granger, and Severus is alone again with his thoughts. Peachy. He thinks this must be shell-shock; he doesn't remember much. Of the bonding, or the talk with Albus. He also doesn't think it matters. When Albus says 'fly', it falls to him to ask 'how high' and then do it. His is not to reason why... Here's hoping he doesn't die in the process.
And with that comforting thought careening about his head, he drifts off again.
Not long after, a certain witch resumes her vigil by his bedside. Or possibly she just sets about finishing her homework. That can be hard to distinguish sometimes.
Either way, before he wakes again, she's completed Ancient Runes and moved on to Tuesday's Transfiguration prep.