Shaking his head to himself, he went quickly into the living room, stumbled, almost, on Granger as she sat on the table he had ate at so often, a plate of steaming stew in front of her and Eleanor's arm around her back, talking softly to her. He watched as Granger slowly lifted a spoon up to her lips and chewed viciously.
"Severus," Eleanor said softly without removing her arm from around Granger.
He wasn't sure what he should say. On the one hand, he felt like reprimanding her, on the other hand, he knew that he was, at least partially to blame. He had made her apparate from London to Manchester and from Manchester to Malfoy Manor.
"Aideen said she didn't eat," it came blurting out of his mouth.
"I could persuade her," Eleanor replied with a small smile directed at Granger. "And it's good, isn't it?"
"Very good," Granger said in between two bites.
"Bread," was all he could answer to that and put the loaf on the table before he sat down himself.
"Where did you go then?" asked Eleanor, stroking broad circles on Granger's back.
"Draco's father," hissed Hermione.
"Why?"
"Books," said Granger, sounding more rational than she had all day.
"On the..." Eleanor trailed off.
"Yes, and it would have all been fine if Granger had remembered to eat beforehand and would not have actually insulted the owner of those books," snapped he.
"He deserved it. Obliviating a poor Muggle. He can basically rape her and she won't even remember. He can make her do disgusting things and she won't remember," he said, with her mouth full, "and," she swallowed, "he can't just decide what he wants her to forget."
"And you told him that, Miss Granger?" asked Eleanor.
"Yes," she nodded.
"And while she might have been correct, it wasn't hers to state it," stated Severus, "while stealing his books."
"Oh," Granger said slowly. "I shouldn't have, eh? But someone had to tell him. Poor Draco," she fumbled with the pocket of her jeans and a second and a wave of her wand later, the spoon in the stew, the books lay, full sized on the table.
"Poor Draco? Why?" Aideen had come into the living room and stared at Granger curiously.
"His father decided not to tell his new girlfriend about him. And that's not right," said Granger.
Aideen shrugged. "Why not? Draco doesn't want anything to do with him anyway. And he hurt Gran."
Severus arched his eyebrows. Women, most women at least, had a memory which lasted longer than that of an elephant. Most women were better grudge-holders than he could ever strive to be and he had excelled at grudge-holding. Couldn't compete with any woman. But it was interesting. So Granger had wanted to say it. She hadn't done it under the effects of her low blood-sugar. She hadn't done it because she had been irrational but because she had wanted to say it. Or maybe, she still didn't have enough food inside of her.
"You have no right to judge other people, Miss Granger," scolded Eleanor.
"But it's wrong what he does," said Granger.
"You wouldn't want to be told that your decisions are wrong by basically a stranger. Who is quite a few years younger than yourself. Imagine a ten-year-old coming up to you and telling you that you're stupid for doing this and that when you're convinced of it..." Aideen argued.
"I wouldn't take a ten-year-old seriously."
"Are you being difficult on purpose?" Severus couldn't stop himself from commenting.
"No, I see the point but nobody is telling him anything. He claims he has no son and he has Draco. It's just not right. It's not right."
"Of course it's not right, Miss Granger, but not your place to say," Eleanor rubbed her back. "Eat, girl, it's getting cold."
Granger nodded slowly — Eleanor's hand on one's back could have that effect — and spooned some more stew, dipping bread into it as well and looked at him. This time, it was easy to read her.
"He was close to using the Cruciatus Curse on you, Granger. It's quite a loathsome sight if someone is under it and you have to watch and I had, and have, no intention of seeing it again. I doubt you would have taken kindly to me dragging you out by the hair," he smirked.
"I usually know when to shut up," she muttered.
"No, you don't," Aideen said softly and sighed. "Gran, will you tell me when Draco returns?"
He missed Eleanor's possible nod and looked at Granger who was, well, a sight to behold. Her mouth stood wide open and the spoon hovered in mid-air, the bread being utterly soaked in the stew.
"Close the mouth. You know when to run but you don't know when to shut up," he said — almost gleefully.
"I think I'm going home now," she said quietly.
"You will finish that," Eleanor was quick to reply and Severus scowled.
"You will finish that and you will definitely not apparate on your own again today," he arched his eyebrows.
"But I..."
"It's hard to hear the truth but honesty is something you should value and appreciate more than anything," he interrupted.
Granger searched him with her eyes, tried to see into his eyes, tried to find the truth of what he had said, possibly, and tried to find a way to answer this. After long moments of silence, or almost silence since he could hear how Eleanor rubbed her back, she merely nodded. Just nodded and bent her head and kept on eating as Eleanor smiled almost motherly at him and he kind of let his lips twitch in response.
.
He scowled. He had learned to scowl from his godfather and it was put to good use now. Seriously — those two just annoyed the hell out of him sometimes. There they were, Weasley with a chicken wing or something in his hand, the lower half of his face completely greasy from the amount of food he had devoured (and was still devouring) and Potter with his godson in his arms, and the godson holding a bit of chicken in his chubby fingers himself.
"Hello," he said as kindly as he could, which wasn't very kindly.
"Malfoy?" Weasley spoke through about a pound of chicken in his mouth.
"Seriously, you gluttons. You go and eat all the time probably and you let Granger..." he trailed off. Let them wonder.
"What's with Hermione?" Potter was the first to react and his eyes were almost fearful.
"She isn't well and you have to come," he replied immediately.
"Where?" asked the Weasel having swallowed.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Manchester," he stated boredly.
"What's she...what happened?"
"If you could ward this place, or maybe just close the door, I will take you both. Even if you do have to touch me," he rolled his eyes once more and for good measure, he let his eyebrows shoot to unknown heights.
"What's wrong with Hermione?"
"She isn't well and you need to bring her home," he shrugged. "Now, would you, please, I don't have forever and I only came to fetch you."
"To Snape's house?" asked Potter suspiciously, his grasp on his godson tightening. Oh — that was very interesting. They, or at least Potter, did not trust him.
"The house next door, but yes, basically to my godfather's house," he answered shortly. "If you would move your behinds now? She needs your help."
"I know where it is," Potter said to Weasley, then looked at him again. "I will need a second to get my godson settled with the house elf and I will apparate on my own." There was an icy look in his eyes and Draco wasn't sure whether he truly liked the suspicion. He had to admit that he was a little concerned about Granger. Just a little, mind, and he knew she would be alright as soon as she had some food inside of her but still. Those two dimwitted idiots still thought he would use something like that, someone like Granger, as a ploy. Why? He hadn't done anything truly evil in at least...never. At least not if you didn't count the way he had felt up Aideen's thigh or how he had used to Confound his former customers. Or the...Vanishing Cabinet. But apart from that...still. It was not matter now. As long as they came and took Granger home. If that was what his godfather wished. Severus could be so dense, really. Here he had a brilliant opportunity to get closer to her, to talk to her, and he was pushing her back home with those two gluttons who could eat probably twenty-four hours, seven days a week but couldn't make sure that their flatmate ate enough to sustain herself. He huffed.
"Fine," he shrugged. "I'll see you there then. Soon, otherwise..." he didn't finish his sentence but merely apparated away.
.
She felt better. She couldn't be sure whether it was the stew alone or if the hand on her back, rubbing constant circles on her back had something to do with it. It was so — motherly. And her own mother...better not thinking about that now, she thought. It was bad enough that they were in Australia. It was bad enough that they didn't seem to have any kind of connection anymore since...and that emails were the only way of communication and that she hadn't seen them in a while and that she couldn't even remember when her own mother had last rubbed her back like that.
Or maybe it was the fact that Snape had seemed quite concerned again. That he watched as she ate and told her the truth.
Now, with her stomach not clenching anymore and the bile where it belonged and her head a little clearer, she knew she had, once more, made of a fool of herself. But someone had to tell Malfoy that it was wrong what he was doing. And someone had to inform that poor Muggle woman. It wasn't right — end of story. And if nobody was there to tell him how wrong it was...yes, she was young and inexperienced in such things and she should have at least a little bit of respect for Malfoy (or not) and it was maybe wrong to jump at him like this with her accusations but deep inside, she knew that it hadn't been the lack of food combined with the apparating that had made her do it. She had wanted to tell him that it was wrong. Maybe she had misjudged when to stop. Had seen the curse almost coming towards her and hadn't been able to stop herself. Was that what he wanted to tell her?
She looked at him and his eyes almost seemed soft and those eyes almost seemed to smile at her. She couldn't help herself. In that moment, her stomach did a little somersault and her heart leapt into her throat and beat merrily, quickly. Those were the eyes she had wanted to see — even if she hadn't know that she did. She bit the inside of her lip. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. She had to close her eyes. She couldn't look into his anymore.
She tried to take a deep breath and tried to shove her heart back into her chest where it belonged, tried to soothe her stomach and it did help to look away, at the table cloth and at the empty plate of stew and at the way Mrs Callaghan rubbed circles on her back still. It was better than seeing those eyes that seemed concerned and worried and gentle and soft and...it would lead her nowhere.
Maybe, she thought, she should just sleep with Ron. Try and be together with Ron. Or Harry. Or anyone she could pick at the street. This was going nowhere. Even if his eyes looked so gentle and kind. Even if he almost smiled with his eyes.
"Where is she?" there was a rather girlish shriek from the side of the garden and she looked up, puzzled. This sounded like...Harry.
"Harry?" she asked stupidly.
"I told you you wouldn't apparate today," Snape said and her eyes were immediately drawn to him again.
"But..."
He said nothing but instead stood up from where he had sat across from her and pulled himself up to full height. He did look rather impressive. Tall and lean and...no. This was Snape. Snape wasn't handsome even if her conceited eyes thought so. He wasn't. He shouldn't be.
"What's wrong with Hermione?" she heard another voice which sounded remarkably like Ron's. Her eyes went wide.
"Both of them?" she asked voicelessly.
Snape only looked at her with arched eyebrows and shrugged ever so slightly. He seemed almost amused when her two boys stumbled into Mrs Callaghan's living room.
"Hermione!" they both near-shouted at the sight of her.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley," Snape said and he sounded very much like a former Potions Master.
"Snape, erm, sir," Harry stuttered.
"Do any of you dunderheads know what happens when you apparate long distances on an empty stomach? A very empty stomach? Very long distances? Often? Do you?"
The boys were silent and they both looked on the ground, neither of them daring to look into his eyes. He was very much like a teacher right now. For her? Was he doing this for her? For her? Was he scolding them for her?
"Snape, I..."
"Do you?" his voice became deadly.
"Hermione?" Ron asked. "Are you alright?" He tried to side-step Snape, tried to reach her side but Snape held him back and pushed him back next to Harry, his finger poking first Ron's chest, then Harry's.
"In the future," he seemed to grow even more and seemed taller and more impressive and terrible and wonderful, "you will make sure Miss Granger gets a decent breakfast before she even thinks about apparating somewhere. You will make sure she has at least three decent meals a day. Do I make myself clear?"
It wasn't even a second before both her boys nodded and even Mrs Callaghan had stopped rubbing her back.
"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled even.
"Take her home then," Snape said. "And feed her."
.
Ron was confused and so was Harry and it was quite possible that nobody who witnessed the scene, not Draco, not Mrs Callaghan, not Hermione and definitely not Snape, missed the shocked glances that passed between those two.
79. Declarations
Declarations are those kinds of speech acts that change the world via their utterance. As the example in [15] illustrate, the speaker as to have a special institutional role, in a specific context, in order to perform a declaration appropriately.
a. Priest: I now pronounce you husband and wife.
b. Referee: You're out!
c. Jury Foreman: We find the defendant guilty.
In using a declaration, the speaker changes the world via words.
(Yule, 1996)
Hermione's door had barely closed, a plate of chicken wings having gone with her, when Harry, gasped loudly.
"Seriously?"
"I know," Ron said, watching Kreacher as Kreacher watched Teddy playing on the floor. "It can't be but he really looked worried. And I felt like a bloody firstie."
"Me too," Harry shook his head. "But he was really concerned about Hermione, wasn't he?"
"He definitely was. Mind you, I haven't seen him since...you know...and he could have changed but that worried? Giving us a lecture about...seriously? Bloody hell."
"Bloody hell indeed. Even though..."
"What?" asked Ron, eyeing the remaining chicken wings.
"I mean, if he's into Hermione, he's sort of not into my mother anymore, right?"
