“beyond wandpoint” 036 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 09q Sunday - Fireside Chat”

Severus and Hermione, Sunny, Crookshanks

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Originally Published: 2017-12-11 on AO3
Chapter: 036

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

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He withdraws to the lounge and turns to face her as he stands in front of the fireplace.

"Join me, if you please? There are some things we need to discuss," he invites her, indicating the chair closest to... her room with his outstretched hand. She turns to do just that, and then remembers the flowers, still clutched in her left hand.

"Would you mind if I used your vase?" She asks, having noted one in the kitchen, lifting the arrangement a bit as if to demonstrate the purpose for the request were that somehow unclear.

He blinks, twice, still puzzled both by the bouquet and her desire to keep it even a moment longer. Without comment, he thinks it's wisest, he Summons the vase which he is able to catch in a single one of his long-fingered hands and fills it with an Aguamenti before extending it to her. She'll need two hands to grasp it properly, particularly now that it's full of water, so she places the flowers a little shyly into it before taking it from him, as though he had meant it to be a cooperative effort, while he stands there mutely holding it.

Her warm smile and soft, "Thank you," coupled with the inexplicable sincerity he can feel across the bond takes the wind out of the bluster he was about unleash in response to that presumption. She sets it down on the nearest end table, briefly adjusts the blooms individually to tidy the display, and then takes her seat, still smiling between him and the flowers. His brow furrowed, he sits in the chair opposite her, and soon becomes irritated with the chair as well. He preferred his.

"Shall we sort your personal effects and... pet first?" He begins, a little tersely.

"Sunny will be able to fetch Crooks, won't he?" It occurs to her she had simply assumed and hadn't actually waited for confirmation earlier.

"If he doesn't mind Apparition." That could pose a problem, she thinks. Her face apparently says as much. "You have a carrier?" He asks. She nods. "Then we'll have Sunny use it. I expect the problem comes after the fact, and you'll have the privilege of talking... Crooks round." He calls for the elf who appears almost immediately with a quiet 'pop' at his side.

"Sunny, we have a couple of errands for you. And if I may have a word first?"

"Sir asks, Sunny does," the elf half chirps, his disposition as sunny as his name. "Sunny is happy to help Mistress and Master of Potions," he beams, looking back and forth between the two of them. Severus wonders if he's still trying to worm in the 'Mistress of Potions' title. House elves are capable of a good deal more subtlety than people tend to think. Merlin knows, they have their own agendas. Sunny steps a little closer to Severus' chair, and the Potions Master leans over and very softly exchanges a few words with the house elf before directing him to Hermione to get a list of the things she'll need for the week to come.

She sits there anxiously trying to think of everything she could require, worried she might forget something. Later that strikes her as silly, because she could always send Sunny to fetch it if she had forgotten something, but it seems the bit of thought pays off, and in the end, nothing was overlooked. It probably helps that she's a well organised person.

While she's making her mental list, Severus draws his wand once more and makes a few adjustments to the door... her door behind her. Soon the exterior has an ornately framed mirror covering almost the entire surface. Her first impression is he still feels the main room is now too small, and is trying to create the illusion of more space. She'll come to revise that opinion. But it looks nice and it's practical; the mirror in the bath wasn't floor length. It never occurs to her that wasn't likely to be a consideration for him. He feels perfectly capable of glancing down if he wishes to see his feet.

Hermione's list complete, Sunny leaves just as quietly as he came, and Severus resumes speaking, "We need to establish a few guidelines." She's half expecting a cleaning rota, which is also silly, because Sunny no doubt manages that as well.

"First and foremost, I need you to agree to keep me apprised of any problems as they arise, and we need to address them in a timely manner. We can't afford to allow things to escalate and force the Protection Vow into play." So not cleaning then... This will take getting used to. She nods, somewhat stupidly, she feels.

"Next, we need to give some thought to how we'll handle your memories."

"My memories?" She thinks she may have actually squeaked. Since her Obliviations of her parents, that word's taken on new meaning for her. Just the mention makes her nervous.

"As a spy for the Order and the Death Eaters, my actions always need to make sense to both parties in light of the roles I play for each of them."

"Can that even work?"

"Not always," he answers truthfully, thinking of the latest instance just this past Friday, when his actions hadn't made... sufficient sense to certain parties and had precipitated a slew of Cruciati of the worst kind. Bellatrix is an absolute horror. "But until we have a better idea of how much safety the Loyalty Vow provides, I'll require your cooperation in making sure your memories provide some added... cover."

"What do you need me to do?" He likes that. It's simple enough. Here's hoping she means it.

"Let's couch it in terms of a game, shall we? A bit of mental sport. The 'what if' game." It's lacking the light-heartedness the words might suggest, in fact he sounds just a little bitter, and she supposes his circumstances hardly permit anything else. But he knows his audience, and he's phrased it... optimally; he has her complete attention.

"We have two options, I am either a loyal member of the Order or a Death Eater. Naturally, as far as you are concerned my loyalty is to the Order alone. Unbeknownst to you, of course, that is a bald-faced lie, and my loyalty is strictly to the Dark Lord and his forces. What we'll need to do is determine how we explain my actions today and in general in both of those contexts." They have a third and fourth option, he's neither or both, waiting to see who wins to declare his loyalty, but that's not really the point to this exercise, and it doesn't occur to her anyway.

Nerves at thought of the possible risk to him if the explanations aren't good enough war with the thrill of being asked to brainstorm with him... And then that immediately crashes to a halt. "But you'll have thought of that in advance. Of course you have your reasons or you wouldn't have acted."

That earns her a wry smile of approval. "Correct, Miss Granger. I don't require you to make my excuses. We're both better off if you don't know my true reasons for acting, and quite probably not even the reasons I put forward and claim as those true reasons by precisely the same logic. I need you to have an idea of why I might have acted so that Legilimency performed on you doesn't leave me exposed." Mostly true. Well, true, just... incomplete.

"So what's that? A fourth or maybe fifth set of reasons?" She looks appalled.

He laughs, but it's not quite a happy sound. "Close enough. More like a sixth and seventh, actually." Her head shifts in question and he explains ticking them off on his fingers as he goes, "The actual reason, one, the reason I tell each party, two, three, the reasons I give them that the other accepted it, four, five, not always remotely the same as the other two, and finally what you will come to believe is the truth for both of them. Six and seven."

"Well, that's not complicated at all," she snarks.

"There is some overlap," he offers modestly.

"Merlin, I hope so." She stops to consider it. "So whose side are you on?" She smiles, hoping to signal that it isn't really in question; she's merely playing along.

"Both, of course. We'll need memories for Albus and the Dark Lord. You need to accept I will have to lie to you. Probably regularly."

"Can you? Effectively?"

"Unfortunately, that remains to be seen." Albus' alterations to the Vows pose a very real problem.

"Which one is stronger? The better Legilimens?"

"The Dark Lord is the more powerful Legilimens." That may or may not be true, but he had just told her he'd be lying to her, not infrequently. It's certainly the safest answer; Albus wouldn't care either way, and the Dark Lord would hear what he wants to. "And even if he weren't, the very fact he is not held back by any desire to be... delicate would mean that he effectively is." He might even sell the memory as the beginnings of an attempt at recruitment at some point in the future. It's important to keep their options open.

"So how do I know you aren't actually evil then?" She asks, but it's more cheek than anything else.

"The only explanation for it is I am better than either of them," he drawls. She laughs, but then bites her lip entertaining the possibility of the truth of that statement. Intriguing.

"Alright, so you want an explanation for both of them," her lip is back between her teeth as she nibbles it, this time weighing the pros and cons of various arguments. "Well, for both groups, I think it works to say this was something you did to prove your loyalty to the Order, as a sort of protection detail."

He nods, she's encouraged and proceeds. "Probably also that it was some kind of penance or... I think Vol... You-Know-Who," she pauses fractionally to glance at him but he doesn't object at the name. Harry prefers for her to say 'Voldemort'. The Professor, she's noticed, seems to strongly disapprove of that. "He might be inclined to see it more as a punishment..." She glances at him tentatively, hoping he won't take it the wrong way, but he nods again. Merlin only knows, he'd wondered himself if it wasn't a punishment. He can't fault her logic.

"Both groups would probably also accept that I was acting as a spy..."

"Unwittingly," he's quick to correct her. "If it were deliberate, it would make you more of a target," she nods her understanding.

"Sorry, you'd indicated as much. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. So the nefarious Headmaster is taking advantage of my good nature and using me as his unwitting spy then," she amends. He smirks his approval. There's a certain appeal to someone, anyone, seeing Albus as anything other than a benign influence, not that he thinks she's serious, but still... It has a nice ring to it. And it doesn't hurt that it's another memory he could use were he ever to make a case for having tried to recruit her.

She grins back a little and with a bit of cheek continues, "But naturally you're every bit as nefarious, if not more so, and doing the same to use me to spy on Harry." He snorts softly at that. "You said as much yourself, earlier," she shoots him a wry smile in response. "Anyway, that's what you'll tell them. For the Order, obviously I am either a willing spy or spying is unnecessary, depending on whom you ask." He couldn't agree more, again nodding for her to keep going.

"Your handling of the... situation meant Malfoy remains in school, by which you prove your loyalty to You-Know-Who, I suppose. Would he even care?" She looks at him, unsure, but he doesn't reply, so she continues instead, "Well, you helped all of Slytherin's male seventh years. That should be relevant. Both sides would accept that argument, and the Order would probably see it as a... tolerable sacrifice to maintain your good standing as a spy." She's sure of it, but it annoys her, just as the Professor had told her it would only Friday night.

"To the extent any of them are aware of the details, Miss Granger. I have little doubt few if any will learn the identities of the assailants."

"So just us and Professor Dumbledore then. Still, it's an argument he would accept, that he insisted upon, even, which means you can claim that's why he did. And the Loyalty Vow keeps me from whinging about it, which means you've bought Malfoy an extra measure of protection in the process." There's something a little... off in her tone, and the feelings across the bond are... a mess. There's no trace left of the smile from a moment ago, just tension.

"I didn't do any of this to protect him," he tells her quietly. Definitely. There's no possible doubt.

"No, I'm sorry, I know you didn't. And I didn't mean to suggest you had, merely that it makes a good explanation," she clearly believes what she's saying, but her tone is still subdued.

"And it most definitely isn't 'whinging' to complain about any and all of the events of this weekend, Miss Granger. You've done nothing wrong, and you are very decidedly the injured party here. You're entitled to find that... unpalatable."

"I imagine that's true for both of us, isn't it?" She answers and then shakes it off. "Right, sorry, where were we? Whether or not the Order trusts you, they send you to work for You-Know-Who, and in that capacity you do things they don't... like, but sanction."

His face goes blank and she can feel him Occluding, but she doesn't stop, "So by saddling you with me, perhaps they'll have meant for me to keep you from becoming too... 'excessive' under the influence of or when operating with the Death Eaters." He'd been the one to tell her of those... excesses, it's certainly not surprising that she knows. It's just a little... unexpected that she's using it against him, and then he wonders why that should surprise him.

But she hasn't finished her thought, "Either to help you refrain because they trust you and wish to provide support, or to inhibit... curtail your actions, at least to some extent. It doesn't matter, either way, they arranged this so they in turn can keep their hands clean. Well, cleaner."

And just like that, she can feel him stop Occluding as fiercely. He approves of her thinking. Heartily. He likes that she isn't using her knowledge to paint him in a bad light and grasps that it means he has the Order's tacit support for the things he does. How often has he felt Albus had deliberately avoided the details of how a thing he demanded was done, just as long as it was. 'Cleaner'. Hell, he bloody loves that.

He's just contemplating telling her as much when a soft 'pop' announces Sunny's arrival, a loud 'Mrowr' that he's not alone. "Crooks!" She cries out, an odd mix of welcoming and scolding. He simply hisses in reply.

Sunny deposits the carrier at her side with a wary glance and a dubious sounding, "Mistress' beastie."

The elf only just catches Severus' "If you'd take care of that task for me now..." nodding before fleeing the scene. He has the good sense to take the rest of her things directly into... her room. If that hiss has even a bit of intention behind it, Severus thinks it's probably a wise choice to be well shot of the lounge before the... animal is let loose.

She bends over the box that seems to contain a very agitated mound of tatty fur, and chides, "Now, Crooks, don't be like that." Looking up to meet his eyes, she asks Severus, "Would it be alright if I let him out here? Or should I take him to... my room? He'll settle faster if he's not stuck in the crate," she tries to explain it.

The Professor's face very clearly indicates that he can't begin to imagine freeing the 'monster' would be a good idea, and it... it amuses her. There's trepidation, readily apparent, and she's trying to decide if he's worried about his furnishings, his books, or the idea of having a mad half-Kneazle freed in close proximity. She manages to fight back her smile, but it doesn't help because the bond gives her away. Pet owners can be very presumptuous, he finds, and looks at her with some annoyance.

"Does he know enough to behave?" He finally asks, his eyebrow rather obviously communicating his inability to believe the likelihood of it. But he can't imagine penning the creature in her room the whole time; it might be best to set the ground rules for... its behaviour now as well.

"He will," she assures him, giving the feline a meaningful look. "He's a very clever boy." She opens the carrier, and contrary to expectations, a wild animal does not come darting out, but the little lion strolls rather purposefully from the crate as though it had all been his idea to begin with. When Miss Granger returns to her seat, he immediately leaps up and curls into her lap.

Purring.

It may well be the ugliest moggie Severus has ever laid eyes on, its face pancaked, as though flattened by a Bludger, often, and of course it reflects the young woman's unfortunate fondness of things ginger, but she positively beams at the creature as she pets it, and its purring becomes quite loud indeed.

Severus could swear it looks... smug. But perhaps securing that level of devotion despite his wanting looks and questionable temperament is something worth looking smug about. He wouldn't know.

He's a little surprised when she picks up where they left off, "You were pressured into acting quickly," she worries her lip a little too harshly because she happens to believe the truth of what she's saying, "and probably couldn't contact them for... instructions... Can you? Would you even? Or would you just..." His eyebrow does that thing that makes her decide to abandon that line of enquiry.

"Well, whichever, your apparent lack of hesitation should help to maintain your cover with the Order, and you can argue that I'm... insignificant anyway," for a moment she sounds... small again, but then she lifts her chin a little and manages a cheerier, "So there should be no harm done in just ignoring me."

"Not bad, Miss Granger. That's a good assessment and very close to the truth." If he thought she was beaming before, she absolutely glows now, and he can feel her satisfaction, her... pleasure through their bond.

"Is it?" She asks, unable to contain her glee.

He just gives her a smirk in answer. It's softer than what he'd originally intended, probably tempered by her contentment, but it still gets its meaning across. It reminds her all too clearly that he'd said she couldn't know his real motives for acting or even what he'd claim were his reasons, so even if she happens to be right, there's no way he'd tell her as much.

She's wrong, naturally.

He understands exactly how to make her unsure, how to apply reverse psychology, and his life has depended on accurately judging and addressing the parties across from him for years now. But she's still new to all of this. She'll catch on in time. Far less than he expects, in fact.

She deflates visibly, both for apparently not being right and for having fallen for the simple ploy.

And then she surprises him again. "Do you want me to distrust you?" He's not sure if that's just uncertainty, pique for his having tricked her, if she's intuited what he's doing, or if she understands the reasons for it, it's... advisability.

"It would help," he answers frankly.

"But I never have." He simply lifts his sceptical eyebrow, and she laughs. It's disarming. "Well, not since I knew you were working for the Order anyway. Why would I start now?" She just looks at him. He's honestly not sure what to answer. "I guess I'm having trouble understanding how the Loyalty Vow changes anything. I haven't previously disrespected you and I don't distrust you, and I certainly see no reason to change any of that, especially not now."

His lips are drawn in a very tight line and then one side curls up. "As you are completely unable to Occlude, I'll take that as facetious, shall I? The primary benefit is a guarantee your thoughts, your memories couldn't betray me."

"But they'd expect me to trust you," she objects, but that's only met with silence.

It stretches for a minute as she considers it. "You really do want me to question your motives." It's a statement, so she's beginning to understand. "But how can I? I didn't to begin with, and the bond, what it reveals..." Her hand lifts in a helpless gesture, but he takes her meaning. She's absolutely right, and he silently curses Albus again for his meddling.

"But what good does doubting you do..." She mulls it over and suddenly realises something. "It's about the Order isn't it? You need the Loyalty Vow for protection against them, too."

"We will need to work on that, Miss Granger. It's imperative. I need you to share nothing about me with anyone."

"But why?"

"The simplest explanation for that is that their thoughts also aren't secure."

"It may be the simplest, but that's probably not the real reason, is it?" He doesn't respond.

"Do you need me to know why you're acting from the Death Eaters' perspective to convince them, or is it to keep the Order from picking through my thoughts?" Something, maybe it's the bond or something in his face, but something makes her certain she's on the right track. "You do! You need to keep the Order from accessing my memories..." She's not quite right, but has gotten unexpectedly close. "Who else on our side knows Legilimency?"

"Precious few," he answers accurately. That fact annoys him greatly. The laziness involved is unforgivable. "Bit of an oversight, wouldn't you agree?"

"Isn't it sufficient to protect your motives just from the one side. Why do we need to keep it from both? It's not as though anyone would expect me to know what's really going on or to have passed along reliable or accurate information. Anything I relay could just be discounted."

"The secondary benefit, as you experienced before when you attempted to tell Albus about our shared dessert," she blushes, and he decides that indicates she isn't trying to be difficult, merely to comprehend, "is if you are unsure of my motives, it will keep you from revealing them."

"You want to guarantee I don't, I can't speak to members of the Order about... about things." She's not sure what exactly he needs her to keep secret, but she's horrified at the idea. In some ways, this feels a lot like the Oath the Headmaster made her take. She definitely wasn't fond of the Oath, but this is worse for two very important reasons.

Firstly, the success of this approach rests solely on a state of constant distrust between them that seems... unhealthy at best. Secondly, it seems for some reason crucial that he, they, achieve it, and she is quite sure they can't. She fails entirely to see how she can distrust him, at the very least in light of what the bond reveals, and for exactly the same reason she knows he's serious about needing to do so. If they need this, she is absolutely certain, they're royally... buggered.

He doesn't respond immediately, but takes a moment to think about how best to handle this. He knows a great many things will change once he's... dealt with Albus, and that he needs to start making preparations for that point in time even now in their interactions, always presupposing they both even survive that long, that is.

It leaves a very bad taste in his mouth to think he might be... grooming her for the time when the Order no longer trusts him. And then he decides that as she won't trust him then either, he can view it simply as ensuring the safety of any information to which she'll be privy, either from sharing chambers or through the bond. She won't, she couldn't possibly be on side. This isn't about winning her over.

"There will come a time, reasonably soon, when I will be forced to take action that will leave the Order in no doubt that I am not to be trusted."

"Forced by which side?" She asks, identifying the root of the problem that many might have overlooked, immediately noticing the passive voice.

"Both, actually. But the actions and results both sides require of me are the same."

"That's efficient," she answers, and he wonders if she might just be as fond of snark as he is. "But if both sides require it, how could the Order see it as disloyal?"

"That rather depends on what my orders are and who is aware of them."

She tries to picture what the Death Eaters could want from him. 'Kill Harry.' She doesn't even like thinking it, the very thought leaves her exceedingly uncomfortable, and so she tries being glib instead. 'Take Bellatrix clubbing.' It doesn't really help. Baby seals, maybe. 'Take Bellatrix to the dentist.' That actually helps until she thinks sadly of her parents. But it's only half the problem.

She's having trouble picturing something both sides could conceivably want, or at least have use for, but that could be perceived as disloyal from their side...

It's all death and... She smiles. 'Do Professor Dumbledore's taxes.' She's proud of that one. Assuming the Headmaster likes that about as much as her father... had, it could be useful and... and now she's picturing Professor Dumbledore being audited and trying not to giggle. Fleetingly she wonders if the wizarding world even has taxes. How does the Ministry pay for itself? Is there even VAT? Her thoughts have a habit of racing away with her, galloping off, and she has to rein them back in.

But try as she might, she honestly can't imagine what assignment of his could meet those requirements and admits defeat. For the moment anyway.

Severus, for his part, has carefully watched her face, listened to the bond, and hasn't the hint of a clue what's going on in that bushy little head of hers. She's impossible to follow. And the smile was frankly disturbing given the topic, but then he has the questionable advantage of being the only one to know what they're actually discussing.

"And you're trying to make sure I'll doubt you then so I can't reveal... whatever about you to them?"

"No, Miss Granger. I am quite certain I won't need to make you doubt me at that time. You will do so of your own accord. But it would be helpful if you doubt me earlier so that you haven't revealed anything critical before that time."

She can tell he's telling the truth. No, that's wrong. He believes the truth of what he's saying. That doesn't mean it's the absolute truth as such.

"But you'll be acting in the Order's interests." He nods. She needs to be uncertain about his disloyalty, too. If she has no doubts at all about his loyalty to the Death Eaters then, if she is positive he's their man, her thoughts will be vulnerable to them; she wouldn't see it as disloyal. She can never be permitted to be certain one way or the other, now or later. There will always need to be, at least a little, doubt.

"Then I won't doubt you," she tells him simply, firmly convinced of the truth of her statement. He's equally certain there is no chance she won't doubt him once he's murdered a man she knows, respects and trusts. Probably the most loved, certainly the most revered, wizard in the U.K. But unquestionably, Albus' tweaking of the Vows that enabled the emotional connection has complicated this task most severely.

"There's little point in arguing it. We shall simply have to see when the time comes. In the meantime, if you were sincere in your offer to help, some doubt would be beneficial." Her expression and the bond are in clear agreement, she's having none of it. He has to refrain from pinching the bridge of his nose. She really is remarkably stubborn. "Try not to see it as disloyal, Miss Granger. It really will help matters if you were to doubt me."

"I don't think bad people walk around announcing they're bad. Likewise, I don't think people who can't be trusted would tell you as much. It rather defeats the purpose. And you couldn't believe them anyway," she tells him with some amusement.

"They might tell you so if doing so guaranteed them your silence. That's the benefit to the Vow."

"And they wouldn't point that out either." She's sure.

"They..." He rejects the formulation. Making this concrete might help get his point across. "I might if I'm toying with you. It can only help increase your doubt, and then we land exactly where we need to. I meant it, Miss Granger. We need the protection that uncertainty provides us."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I don't believe it. You can spend a lot of time and effort trying to convince me it's true," he's inclined to think he already has, "but I simply don't believe it. And if you continue trying to convince me, or worse, actually were to somehow manage to convince me, and I really don't think it will be an easy job given what the bond conveys," he'd agree with that in an instant, "then I think both of us will be worse off for it.

"'What if', Sir. Consider it. Let's assume you're an evil Death Eater." He snorts softly and raises his eyebrow, but she's undaunted. "Wouldn't it be better if you convinced me to trust you? What you apparently want is for me to be unable to reveal things to the Order, as well. Why not try convincing me of the danger of that instead? Wouldn't it be preferable to live in a state of trust? Constant doubt... That must be wearing."

He has no response to that. Yes, it's exceedingly wearing living like that. He hates it. It's exhausting. He'd hated the idea of even more of it in his life. And naturally he'll never admit as much to anyone. He had a workable plan of how to approach this bond that Albus' meddling has thoroughly scotched, and he's trying to figure out how to make this work within the parameters he now faces. It's a pain in his arse is what it is.

"You weren't expecting the emotional component of the bond, were you?" She asks rather astutely.

"I was not," he reluctantly confirms.

"Sir, I'm not daring to suggest I know how to manage this better than you do, of course not, but perhaps you'll consider it. If we can reach a point where I'm truly convinced sharing information with either side puts you at risk, then that should do the trick every bit as well as doubting you would, and be a good deal more pleasant to boot." She smiles at him hopefully.

Sunny picks that moment to reappear, although that's probably unfair, he seems to have been on an errand, and addresses Severus with some urgency, "He is there, Master of Potions, Sir! He is there."

With a "Thank you, Sunny," Severus stands, offering no explanation for the message, and tells her, "I must take care of... some things. We'll have to continue this at a later date."

She rises with him, half reflexively, knocking Crookshanks from her lap in the process, who protests only slightly before advancing stealthily on Sunny, sniffing as he does. Sunny stares at him warily, visibly disquieted at being stalked and shifts his position to behind the Professor before 'popping' out of the room. Hermione, oblivious, nods her willingness to table their discussion for a later time, "Of course. But would you think about it? Not just discard it out of hand?"

"Miss Granger, I think you'll find I am far more concerned with finding satisfactory solutions and a good deal less fussed with who has suggested them. I can assure you, I'll give it the consideration it deserves." She can't explain it, the bond is hard to define, but she knows that wasn't sarcasm. He turns and begins walking to the door. She follows him, again without thinking, as if to see him off. Probably because she is.

"Oh, sorry, Sir, just one other thing. I don't mean to presume and leave things lying about, but I," her bottom lip disappears very briefly beneath her front teeth before she plunges on, "I wondered if you'd like me to leave the flowers out here? So you could enjoy them as well? To brighten the place?" His look isn't exactly encouraging, and her tone lowers and becomes less sure. "But if you don't like them, naturally I'll remove them and put them in my room..."

His lips again drawn, he's almost surprised to hear himself reply, "That won't be necessary. They're... acceptable. Why don't you leave them here?"

Her cheery grin at that leaves him wondering why he said it. "Goodnight then, Sir. I'll see you in the morning." Neither of them are sure if that's a statement or a question.

Now at the door, he nods a little stiffly, "Goodnight, Miss Granger." And still in his dress robes, he disappears into the gloom of the hallway, and Hermione places the flower arrangement on that magnificent dining table before retiring to her new room with Crooks in tow.