Pawn to Queen
a version of Chapter 31

Hermione woke to warmth--- the feel of another body against hers, the rhythmic rise and fall of someone's breathing.

She opened her eyes and turned her head.

Soft--- and fully-awake--- chuckle. "Good morning, sweet."

"Severus---" Memory came back in a rush. "Good--- good morning."

Soft fingertips touching her hair. "Regrets?" Neutral tone--- but her memories didn't just include what he'd done to her. For her.

She met his eyes. "No. None."

Dark sardonic look, mocking her gently. "I'm glad."

"You don't believe me."

"It's early yet." Another sardonic chuckle, then serious attention. "How do you feel?"

She took stock--- and the realization hit her, with crushing force. "Not... that different."

"Did you expect to?"

"Well, one night was enough to change everything before---" she felt as if she'd been stupid--- "why shouldn't it be enough to set everything to rights?"

"Why not, indeed." He sighed, sadly. "It's easier to break things than to put them together, Hermione. It's always so."

She thought about that for a moment. "But not necessarily more enjoyable."

He laughed outright at that. "Particularly not if you're the one being broken."

Which, after all, they both had been. Him worse than her.

There was an awkward silence, which she felt obliged to break. "What time is it?"

"We've missed breakfast." His voice was ruefully amused.

"Oh, dear." She gave him a worried look. "Do you think anyone will notice?"

He snorted. "My absence will doubtless be unremarkable to everyone except Dumbledore--- and he won't... object. You, on the other hand---"

Hermione bit her lip--- then grinned. "I don't think my friends will notice either--- they're a little busy themselves."

He held up a hand. "Spare me."

Hermione twitched. Except for the discussion of strega, they had carefully avoided much in-depth conversation about her Gryffindor friends and his opinions thereof. Though she supposed that introducing her to Blaise and by extension the Teasdale twins could be considered a form of constructive criticism.

She remembered her conversation with Harry the other night--- the extent of his own self-doubt, so similar to Severus', and wished for a fleeting moment that it would be possible for the two of them to have, well, a real conversation on the topic. Which was likely a pipe-dream, since she couldn't even admit to her friends that she and Severus had... whatever they had between them.

Which in turn brought up a whole new set of problems. Hermione sighed.

"Hmm?" Soft, unintrusive inquiry; his hand fondled her hair.

She turned her head, rested her chin on her hands to look at him. "What are we to each other, Severus?"

He blinked, startled. "As in, what kind of a relationship is this?" She nodded, as much as it was possible to, with her head on his chest, and he echoed her sigh. "I was... rather afraid you'd ask that."

Her heart contracted. "Afraid?"

He nodded. "You see, it's not a question I'm sure I know how to answer." Sardonic chuckle, this time directed at himself. "My... life... has been rather devoid of experience in this sort of thing."

She winced, thinking what kind of experience he did have. "Mine too," she offered, honestly.

This time his smile was gently rather than bitterly ironic. "I should hope so, at your age." Another sigh. "I fear I've done you a great disservice, Hermione--- you see, I haven't any more idea where to go from here than you have."

She frowned, remembering. "Don't tell me you didn't expect something of the sort--- after Claudia---"

"Yes, Claudia." The smile stayed in place, almost reminiscent. "This is... not what I would have expected from Claudia. Expiation, yes--- a fair exchange. Evening the score. Not..." another sigh, his fingers still playing her hair. "Not a sharing."

"But that was a fair exchange. You saved my life."

No answer; perhaps, for once, she'd silenced him. Then, softly, "But at what cost?"

"The least possible."

He chuckled. "We're going round in circles, sweet--- I rather think we've had this discussion before."

She sighed acknowledgment. Then--- "How are you this morning, then?" Not precisely a change of subject--- more of a regrouping.

He took the same few seconds' pause that she had. "I think poleaxed comes closest. I did not expect... any of what happened last night, beyond the gross concept."

Hermione reflected wryly that "gross" had almost a double meaning in this context given his past experience. "It was... important to me," she said finally, " that I hurt you as little as possible. Just as it mattered to you that... what you did with me in Malfoy's dungeon hurt me as little as possible. Do you see the symmetry?"

He returned her gaze for a long moment, intent. "Symmetry...." The light did not flash on, but slowly brightened in his eyes. "Perhaps... I do at that. A matter of fairness."

"Yes... and...." She was suddenly very unsure if he could understand this--- or at least, if he could understand having it directed at himself. "It would have hurt me to hurt you, knowing that you hadn't... deliberately chosen to harm me."

He chewed on that for a moment. "Indeed." One eyebrow arched. "Could you hurt Lucius Malfoy? Or his son?"

Now it was her turn for rumination. "I'd like... I'd like Lucius to know how it feels, exactly how it feels, to be helpless and terrified and uncertain. And I'd like... I'd like for Draco to know what it's like to have your own body betray you with what it wants." In other words, to give them exactly the experience they had given her.

He chuckled at the last. "You might mention that to Blaise, you know--- I suspect she has something of the sort in mind."

Hermione blinked. The notion of Blaise wanting to... do anything of the sort with someone who had so callously assaulted her was a shock--- then she gasped aloud as a piece of the puzzle fell into place. "Slytherins!"

Snape blinked at the combination of realization and exasperation in her voice. "Eh?"

"Everything's a power game with you, isn't it--- and you enjoy it. You like the... dance, even if--- when--- it hurts."

He stared at her, no less astonished. "Merlin's teeth--- you mean you didn't see it before?" He let his head fall back on the pillow. "And if you didn't see it.... No wonder Slytherins and Gryffindors despise each other--- it's a matter of total incomprehension." He shook his head, chuckling softly.

"Total?"

"Well, at least a large amount." He stroked her hair, gathering a clump of it in his hand. "How remarkable." Then, very softly, "Though I suspect that Gryffindors enjoy... power games... too... don't they?"

Softly suggestive words, and she remembered the night before, and shivered. "It... depends on the game. And how it's played."

"Ah, yes--- Gryffindor ethics."

"Slytherins have ethics too--- don't they?" Baiting him.

"We have... pragmatism. The difference in the... expression of that pragmatism depends wholly on the individual's understanding of the world. For the Teasdales, or Cousin Claire, the most pragmatic approach is one in which Muggles and magicals work together---"

"Magicals?"

He blinked. "You mean you haven't heard that expression? It's what we call ourselves--- logical, isn't it?" She had to agree with that. "At any rate, the Teasdales and others like them see the greatest practical advantage in cooperation. Others, like the Malfoys, see the greatest advantage in magical supremacy."

"Pragmatism." A thought occurred to her. "Is that why you went to bed with me last night?" She wasn't sure how she felt about it.

He looked down at her, seriously. "Is that why you asked me?"

The question rocked her--- at first it seemed unfair... then she thought about it. "I asked... because I needed to know. And because... it was the only fair thing for both of us."

"Ah. Fairness." He smiled thoughtfully. "I begin to think that perhaps fairness is to a Gryffindor what practicality is to a Slytherin."

"You haven't answered my question."

His fingers left her hair to trace her face. "I took you to bed last night, Hermione, because it seemed the most... reasonable thing to do. For both of us."

Reasonable. She shivered. "Just... that?"

His fingers traced her cheekbone. "I'm... not sure what you mean. It was something... important to us both. It was something that you needed."

"And what about you?"

That startled him, and no mistake: he blinked and shifted under her. "What about me?"

"What did you need?" She met his eyes head on.

He closed his own, withdrawing. "I... it's been so long since I've thought about such a question, I'm not sure if I can answer you."

Now she did shudder, thinking suddenly about the night after he'd gone to meet with Voldemort, thinking about how very hurt and desperate he'd been.

What have I gotten myself into?

As if he could read her thoughts, he opened his eyes, quickly. "Hermione, for Merlin's sake, don't try to shoulder my burdens as well as your own."

"You've done the same for me."

"Yes, but I was the cause of at least some of them." He smiled self-mockingly.

She thought about that for a moment. "No. Lucius Malfoy was, and Ellen Wilkes, and Voldemort, and your mother. You did the best you could for me, and that's what you've been doing ever since."

And the strange thing was that this time she really did feel it--- felt the anger turning itself from Severus to Malfoy--- the other enemies were too abstract for her to rage at so intimately--- but it was Malfoy who'd hurt them. Hurt them.

She wasn't... precisely... sure what she did feel about Severus, but it wasn't angry... and not scared, either. No, not scared at all.

They were even, at least in this. Knife-edge balance of power.