A/N: Even if you've read this chapter before, I suggest you re-read because some things have changed. Cheers! -Arciere

A different persona and rooms behind doors

Hermione didn't immediately open her eyes to the sunlight of the morning. She took a moment to feel her surroundings, knowing that wherever she was, it was not home. Then it came to her-she didn't have a home anymore. The pain she'd been unable to feel before slammed into her with the force of a blow. She felt as though she'd been beaten.

Her eyes opened slowly, testing the light. Tears blurred her vision, though they didn't fall. She refused to let them escape her eyes—they were a weakness she'd rather avoid. She would be brave, she would stop crying, she would accept that things were different now. She tried to move a finger to make sure the shock that had paralyzed her had finally seeped out, but something obstructed the movement. She lifted a hand to figure out why they were immobile and found them bandaged.

"You had wand splinters embedded in both hands."

Hermione turned to the sultry voice. Severus Snape sat in the one chair in the room, which happened to be placed next to the left side of the bed. He was leaning back against the chair with his long legs crossed, looking at her so fondly that she was certain she was dreaming. There was no way in Hades that Snape would ever smile at her.

"Can you pinch me?" she asked, her voice low. "I must be dreaming if you're smiling at me."

He laughed in response to that, a quiet, yet powerful laugh that Hermione found quite pleasant. And that scared her enough to know that she was in fact very much awake. Amusement flashed in his obsidian eyes. It took him only a few moments to compose himself, though the amusement stayed in his face.

"It's good to know that you still retain that tongue of yours," he said, leaning forward to grasp her hand in his. She tried to tug it away, but he held on and lightly smacked her arm in return. "Hold still. I need to check the wounds."

"Why didn't you just spell the splinters out and heal my skin? Why bandage them?" She asked.

"Healing spells are not my forte," he said simply. "Besides, potions are more precise and thorough."

He unwrapped the bandage in what could only be termed a tender manner. Hermione watched him, noticing the intense look of concentration that furrowed his brow. He was completely focused.

"Do you find me aesthetically pleasing then?" He asked, not looking up from his work. Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth dropped. He chuckled, still focused on her hand, but managing to notice her reaction. "You keep staring," he explained.

"Just observing," she answered, shrugging. "You become so absorbed in what you are doing."

Snape took that with a hum, and a comfortable silence stretched while he checked her hand and then moved on to the other one. Finding them healed, he stood and took the bandages to be disposed of. Before walking out the door, he turned to her.

"If you are up to rising today, you will find a bathroom behind that door," he pointed to the door on her right, "and the closet is there." He motioned to the one next to that. "It is for your use. Then you can come downstairs and meet me in the dining room." He left quietly, leaving her to freshen up.

Hermione pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard as she examined her hands. They were completely healed, and she reminded herself to thank Snape for seeing to them.

I am really going to thank him? she thought, feeling off-kilter by the idea. When did Snape become so nice? Something has changed.

The tender look he gave her as he watched her, and his careful ministrations as he tended her wounds made it hard for her to accept that he was the same, cruel professor she'd thought he was. Had she misjudged him? Kindness seemed to fit Snape as easily as his cruelty, and Hermione decided to reevaluate and perhaps start over with him. But first she wanted to clean up.

She threw back the blankets, shocked to find herself in pajamas. She didn't remember changing when she'd arrived here the previous night.

Oh well. You don't remember a lot from last night. Too shocked.

She turned and started to get out of bed, but found her energy gone.

Don't think about it! Don't think about them! Be strong!

But she couldn't force her emotions back anymore, and she shook with the effort. Her eyes watered and spilled over, and she let it go. She fell back, curled up on her side, and let all the hurt and pain and sadness come to the surface. She grabbed her pillow and crushed it to her chest, burying her mouth in the fabric so no one would hear her.

She wasn't sure how long she'd spent curled in the fetal position, but at some point Hermione decided that enough was enough.

I will be strong. I will not let this destroy me.

She picked herself up and padded to the bathroom door and opened it. Behind it she found a large bathroom made of marble and silver. The towels and accents were cranberry, which seemed out of place in the home of the Head of Slytherin. She turned the tap of the deep tub on, eager to let warmth seep back into her. She found bubble bath mixture in the carousel of bath products, and she poured some in, noting that it was vanilla, her favorite.

After a thoroughly relaxing soak and scrub, she emerged feeling clean and warm, if still a little battered. Donning the robe left for her, she made her way over to the closet. She shouldn't have expected anything less, but the closet was rather large and already stocked with various articles made in her size. She wandered in, vaguely curious as to how Severus knew what she needed and what she liked.


Severus Snape tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for Hermione to appear. He'd left her over two hours ago, and he hadn't heard a peep since.

Maybe something's wrong with her, he thought, tipping tea into his waiting mouth. Perhaps I should check up on her. Albus will be here soon, and she needs to be present.

Decision made, he set his cup down and made his way upstairs.

He hoped that she wasn't still in bed. While he could certainly understand her grief, he wasn't sure what to do to help her if she was still caught up in her emotions. He'd never seen her like that before, and it tore at his heart. She looked so fragile, with her doe eyes wide and wet and her lips quivering. He didn't know what he could do to make her feel better, so he hoped that she'd found the strength to get up on her own.

He knocked first, being a gentleman of course, and entered after waiting a few moments for her to respond. She wasn't in bed, thank Merlin, so he moved to the closed bathroom door.

"Hermione? Are you still in there?" There was no response. So he knocked and asked again, louder.

"Professor? I'm in the closet. Give me a moment." Her voice was muffled, but not upset. He was a lucky wizard and she was a brave woman.

"How long have you been in the closet?" he asked, relieved that he'd found her. "Are you alright?" He was glad that she was up and clean. Some witches would wallow in their misery until someone kicked them in the arse, but Hermione Granger was not one of them.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Yes, I'm fine. I had a rough start, but I'm fine now. I've been looking through all the things in here. There's so much!" Muffled sounds came through the door to indicate she was moving around as she talked. "How do you have all this stuff in here?"

"Well, hurry up and pick something, will you? You need to eat."

"Sorry, Professor. I'll be out in just a minute."

"As for the clothing, I am nothing if not a gracious host; I provide for those under my protection," Severus said, leaning against the wall well out of the way of the door. "Also, I'm a powerful wizard with enough gold to do what I like," he added smugly.

Hermione stepped out a moment later, wearing black hip-hugging jeans and a matching striped top. She'd also found some simple flats. She tugged at the hem of her top before meeting Severus' eyes. "Thank you for taking care of me yesterday," she said. "And for healing my hands. And for letting me borrow this room and these clothes. And for understanding." She smiled hesitantly, as if she were afraid he would verbally lash out at her.

So she remembers our history, Severus thought, and promised himself he would change her opinion of him. "You are most welcome, my dear, but you needn't be so formal. You are my guest. And please, call me Severus." He looked over her, nodding in approval at her choice of clothing. "Now, it is noon, but you haven't had breakfast yet. Would you like brunch?"

"Yes, please."

She turned to go out the door, but he caught her hand, pulling her to a stop. "One moment," he said, as he disappeared into the closet with the billowing of his trademark black robes. He emerged carrying a black scarf, which he wrapped around her neck. "There we go. It's chilly downstairs."

Hermione stood stunned, but shook herself and set off after his flowing robes before she got left behind. Her stomach growled, letting her know that food was more important than thinking about her professor and what spell had altered him.

Sadness curled and twisted in her stomach, but she accepted it and moved it to the side—she would deal with it as she always dealt with crises: let it cool down so she could analyze it and come up with the best approach.

I will be brave. I will not cry. I will eat with Severus and I will get through this. I have to.

A/N: So, I'm really excited about this rewrite. I realized that my writing from 6 years ago was pretty immature, which is to be expected. So little things are changing as well as big things. I think it's sounding much better. Many thanks to my wonderful Beta, Maleday, who helped make this chapter SO MUCH BETTER.

So, Severus is quite OOC, but I'm getting to that explanation. Besides, who doesn't love a sweet Severus? Of course he's still a snarky bastard, but I like seeing this side of him too. Hermione is still recovering, but she'll get her fire back and flame up soon. And we'll meet more of our main characters too!

As always, I encourage and welcome reviews. I'll update more soon!

-Arciere