"What with? A gun? A rifle?" she took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "You will not go on your own. Take Hermione, for all I care but take someone and don't go alone." Eleanor sighed, "I'd feel safer if you didn't go on your own."

He said nothing but she felt him, or thought she felt him, squeezing her hand back before she busied himself making some tea putting a cup in front of her. She only watched him, and he seemed to walk a bit lighter, a bit happier, a bit...different. There was something different. And she would get to the bottom of it. And the way he walked...the way he smirked a little when he thought she couldn't see...well, that only left one conclusion.

"Now that that's cleared up," she stated, the cup of tea in her hands, "Do you want to tell me about your girlfriend?"

Thank you for your reviews, reading, your opinions etc. I'm truly grateful!

Lucius, eh? Good or bad? I'd love to hear what you think but you know that, don't you?

56. Indirect Speech Acts

Although I am going to claim that the yes-no questions to be discussed in the present paper, too, are interpretable as indirect speech acts, the yes-no questions that people usually treat under the heading of indirect speech acts are of the following type:

(1)

(a) Can you pass the salt?

(b) Have you got change for a dollar?

(d) Would you mind not making so much noise?

Such questions are indirect requests: the speaker wants the hearer to do something. That is (1) (a)-(d) are requests for actions, consequently no verbal response is required. Under normal circumstances, it would even be inappropriate to answer questions such as (1) (a)-(d) by 'yes' or 'no'.

There are also cases where yes-no questions are requests for information.

Consider:

(2)

(a) Can you give me some kind of idea of that conversation?

(b) Can you describe him to us?

(d) Can you tell me when the next train leaves?

Once again, a plain 'yes' as an answer to (2) (a)-(d) would be utterly inadequate and a plain 'no' may be impolite in certain situations.

(Kiefer, 1980)

There had been few occasions in his life when Severus had felt truly gobsmacked. The moment Albus had told him that he would have to be killed — by him — had been one of those. The moment his mother had died had been another one. In retrospect, the moment his wand had been snapped had been one — even though it was less gobsmackedness and more...absolute disbelief and utter shock. But yes, few moments when he had been gobsmacked.

And this was certainly one of them even though...he did try to conceal it.

Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend.

He had no girlfriend. He had...someone to go to in the evenings and someone he had come to like a little and someone who was a comfort and was willing to give so much even though she knew so little. Who wanted to touch him and wanted to be touched by him.

But...

girlfriend?

Annie was no girlfriend. Girlfriends were giggling, coy cows and the term alone had many implications otherwise — and none were suitable to describe her. She wasn't a girl after all. And friend...he wasn't sure how to determine whether someone was a friend. Eleanor was a...well, mother-figure, Draco was his godson, Aideen was Eleanor's granddaughter. Everyone had a clearly defined place in his life. Those who were in his life and none of those truly defined themselves as 'friend'. Of course he knew that 'girlfriend' meant something like steady partner. A partner. A sort of significant other. But Annie was...was she? No. Definitely not. Or not yet. Or would probably never be, he wasn't sure. There had to be a reason why it was girlfriend and not only girl.

No, Annie was a still undefined someone (and definitely not a special someone), and certainly not a girlfriend. He had no friends and as such, she couldn't be a girlfriend.

"I have no girlfriend," he replied acerbically but Eleanor only rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"I knew you'd say that. The woman then, the girl, the, ah, bit of stuff if you like," she smirked and he groaned.

"Not bit of stuff," he huffed.

"Woman," she rolled her eyes again.

"Nobody," he said immediately.

"Alright, so we will call her Nobody for the time being. Or a shortened version...Nob? Noby? Nobs? Nobs sounds good to me. So what kind of a woman is Nobs?" asked Eleanor, her eyes twinkling wildly and he knew he stood basically no chance. She would grill him until he folded.

"It's of no importance," he tried.

"Oh Severus," she shook her head and laughed. "So let me guess. You met this bird at uni and after a bit of uming and ahing, you met and from then on, you met again and again. And now you're embarrassed to tell."

Yes, Severus thought, embarrassed. He knew how Eleanor stood towards pre-marital intimacies — put elegantly — and he had no intention at all to ever get married. Much less to marry Annie. And he had felt no qualms about being intimate, very intimate, with her. Without her knowing who he really was and not knowing anything about him apart from the fact that he was more or less talented when it came to Linguistics. She didn't even know that he had developed potions before. That he had developed theories, spells according to those theories. That he had probably graded more essays than she ever had. He had been intimate with her without knowing exactly how old she was, or she knowing how old he was. She didn't even know where he lived or if he was married. He could be married for all she knew. She could be married. It was — embarrassing. And ridiculous. Utterly, horrendously ridiculous.

Keeping the woman at arm's length and yet allowing her to be so much closer to him than that.

He swallowed hard and took a long look at Eleanor's face. She waited for him to speak but she wore a kind smile, a non-judging smile and her eyes shone brightly. That woman sitting there knew so much about him, knew him more intimately than probably anyone still alive and he didn't dare to tell her that he had been with somebody? That woman worried about him — and he left and didn't even tell her where he went. That wasn't right. He took a deep breath.

"Her name is Annie and I met her at uni. She's a lecturer there and I took her class last semester. We met over the summer occasionally and now still do. But it's nothing serious."

"Just a friend then?" she smirked evilly.

"Yes," he sighed, "just a friend." Whatever her definition of friend was.

"Nothing else?"

"No, nothing else," he lied smoothly.

She took his hand and held it again. Just held it and smiled — whatever that meant.

There was something Draco felt he ought to do. He tried to push the 'ought to' out of his mind, tried to make himself believe it wasn't necessary but in the end, it was. In the end, he felt compelled to do it. And he told himself that once he had done that, once it was done, he would be completely finished with the entire chapter of his life. That chapter of his life would then be over and he could then focus on what he would spend the rest of his life doing. Rebuild his life and make sure that his family had a good standing with the Wizarding World again. Make sure he was respected by those he had been sneered at and those he had wanted to run away from.

And he knew now that that had been the wrong way — the right way was to make sure all of them knew that he was someone to look up to and someone to fear and someone to respect. He was Draco Malfoy and he did not run away.

Not from anything — or anyone. And that's why he was doing this. Why he had to do this. To end one thing in order to begin something else.

He nodded to himself and dipped the quill deep into his inkwell.

Granger,

please tell Miss Callaghan that I will not return to Manchester.

Draco Malfoy

It wasn't that he owed her anything, and her grandmother had been informed by his godfather, he hoped. That woman didn't have to worry more as she had done over her and he knew she would. She worried about everyone and everything. It didn't matter. He couldn't care about that. He didn't have time or the mind to do that — besides, his chest hurt less when he didn't think about her. And about her grandmother. And about her grandmother's neighbour. He did not want his chest to hurt and with that short missive, now tied to the owl's leg, would lessen the pain when he lay awake and couldn't sleep at night. He had done what was best for him. Granger would make sure she knew and Granger would leave him be because Granger wouldn't possibly come to Malfoy Manor. He knew what had happened there and he had a fair idea of the kind of nightmares that Granger still had. Aunt Bella had never been the sanest of people and it seemed Aunt Andromeda wasn't any better.

He sat on his bed, unsure on how to proceed with his life at that moment, unsure about what to do next, how to go about forcing others to respect the name of Malfoy again. Or how to get a bit more money now his job was gone and in a world he did not belong in.

He closed his eyes and forced her image away from his inner eye. It wouldn't do.

Hermione punched numbers into her mobile phone. Angrily. That arrogant, idiotic twit. Whatever he had done now, it was just...argh. Stupid, bloody idiotic boy, running away? And why? Only that bloody brief note:

Granger,

please tell Miss Callaghan that I will not return to Manchester.

Draco Malfoy

Whatever was that supposed to mean? Had they broken up? Quite possibly from the tone he used but why? Why in the name of all that was good and holy had they broken up?

There was only one way to find out. The source of all problems and while she couldn't speak to Aideen, she could very well speak to — her grandmother. Mrs Callaghan would know. And Mrs Callaghan would tell her.

"Eleanor Callaghan's residence," he voice snarled on the phone and all the blood in her body seemed to flow right into her cheeks. Why was Snape — Snape of all people — answering the phone?

"Erm, yes, hi, erm, this is Hermione Granger," stuttered she.

"Granger," he seemed to grunt. "Mrs Callaghan is not available at the moment."

"Erm, maybe, er, you can help me? I mean, bring light to this?"

"Bring light to what?" he snarled.

"Light to the fact that Draco Malfoy just sent me an owl with a note that said, please tell Miss Callaghan that I will not return to Manchester."

There was a noise at the other end of the line. It sounded like another grunt or a sigh or something along that line — air streaming past the vocal chords without forming words.

"What?" she asked testily.

He said nothing again and her temper flared.

"Snape, what happened?"

Another pause, another noise (more like a sigh this time), then clearing his throat. "My godson saw fit to inform Miss Callaghan of his way of life and Miss Callaghan acted rather rashly and impulsively and he interpreted this wrongly and seemed to have returned to his father."

"Draco went back to his father? But he loves Aideen and Mrs Callaghan. And he sort of you know, likes you. Why?"

Another noise, another sort of grunt, or sigh or whatever it was called and her blush was completely gone, then returned. Grunt and sighs were rather...interesting noises when it came to Snape's voice. Well...within reason.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,than are dreamt of in your philosophy," he mocked.

"What? Why? What? Hamlet? What the...are you...?"

"Granger..." he made another one of those noise but this time it sounded a little more exasperated.

"Draco went because he and Aideen had a fight?"

"No, because he thinks a relationship between a Muggle and a Wizard or Witch can never happen," he sounded annoyed now.

"But they love each other."

"Yes," he drawled. "Maybe."

"Snape that's all very interesting, but what can I do?" she hissed angrily.

He seemed to take a deep breath and then cleared his throat. Again. "Well, you can present yourself here the day after tomorrow, nine in the morning and you could accompany me to Malfoy Manor."

57. The Power of Words

With our Hearers we make the most of our Subject: that is in the Power of Words to make. Opposite to this Figure is Precision, which rather gives a Hint to the Understanding more than you fay ; as is likewise Brevity, which consists in a distinct: Conciseness, together with Extenuation and Illusion, which falls pretty well in with Cœsat's Rules. Then comes Digression, which as it is delightful, your resuming your Subject ought to be proper and agreeable; then follows the Proposition of what you are to speak to ; then its Disjuntlion from what hath been already said ; then you return to what you propos'd; then you recapitulate ; then you draw from the Premises your Conclusion ; then you enhance or evade the Truth, according as your Intention is to exaggerate or extenuate then you examine, and, what is very near a-kin to Examination, you expostulate and answer upon your own Principles ; then comes that bewitching Figure of Irony, by which a different Thing is understood from what is express'd, a Figure that has the most agreeable Effects in a Discourse, when introdue'd not by way of Argument, but Entertainment; then comes Dubitation; then Distribution; thest the Correction of what you have either faid, or are to fay; or when you are to throw any thing off from yourself. Premunition, regards the Point you attempt to prove; then there is throwing the Blame upon another; then there is Communication, which is a kind of Deliberation with those to whom you speak; then there is the Imitation of Morals and Life, either when you name or conceal the Characters they belong to ; this is a great Embellishment to a Speech, and is chiefly calculated

(M. T. Cicero, 55 BC, translated by William Guthrie, 1755)

"Shite," muttered she. "Shite," she said, louder. "Shite," she shouted. "Shite!"

The boy looked at her with big — bright purple — eyes and his mouth hung open which looked a bit unintelligent and the bit of drool gathering at the side of his mouth didn't truly change that impression. "Shite," she explained and with trepidation looked at her watch. If she didn't leave within the next five minutes, she would most definitely be late. And if she was late, Snape would think she was unreliable and that was something she didn't want. If she did show up, she had to take Ted with her. She had been absolutely stupid — had known it Harry would be out on practice, had known Ron was out to Auror training and she had completely forgot that it had been her turn to watch him. It was her second to last day before Uni started and...it had just slipped her mind. And now it was too late to ask Molly Weasley to watch him and it was too late for anything but either — not going — or taking him with her.