A/N For the sake of literary something, I'm going to make this chapter in Snape's PoV again, just because it's easier that way.  Sorry to disrupt the pattern.  This is longer than the last few, but still quite short – I've discovered I like the freedom of frequent short chapters. 

To KdarkMaiden, I'm trying to update this relatively often, but in order to do that I'm keeping the chapters short… otherwise I have a habit of writing 10 page chapters but waiting months between updates.

To AngiePen, thank you, very much.  There's rather a lot to say here, so I'll do that in an email instead of making this longer than the story itself.  :D

Enjoy, and review!

Snape stepped out onto the balcony at the top of the tower.  He had, thankfully, seen nobody on his way up from the entrance hall, and as he stood in the open air of the tower, he felt the calming influence of the silence of the night.  Up here, there was no buzzing of insects, no rustling of nocturnal animals, and no unwelcome intrusions by members of staff.  Snape allowed himself to relax completely, staring up at the stars so far away. 

He tried to let the night absorb him, to become a part of the darkness, to let it swallow him whole.  And then he heard a sound, distracting him once more from his reverie; it was a wet sniff, coming from somewhere to his right.  He turned, about to give the most blistering lecture of his lifetime, furious at being disturbed twice in the one night when all he wanted was isolation.  The words died on his lips as he saw a person, three-quarters naked, shivering on the stone floor. 

Snape, ever cautious, withdrew his wand as he approached the person.  As he drew closer he realised that she was female, and crying.  Even by the starlight he could see the recent scratches and forming bruises on her, and only his long experience in hiding his emotions could prevent him from showing his shock.  How could there have been an attack at the school?  Voldemort was dead; his supporters were under surveillance and did not dare to sneeze, let alone attack a student at Hogwarts.

Snape moved closer, to discover her identity, and recognised her with a gasp.  Hermione Granger was shivering, badly beaten up and apparently raped, lying on the top of Slytherin Tower, her clothes reduced to rags. 

"Miss Granger," he said softly, unsure of what to say but completely certain that snapping and deducting housepoints would not be a good idea.

She jumped, startled and terrified, and looked at him with undisguised fear.  Her face, he noticed, was free from abrasions – whoever had done this to her had intended for her to hide it, he assumed, by her school robes.  Which meant that this could potentially have been going on for a very long time.

"Please," she whispered.  "Please… not again… not more tonight.  I… I can't…" and she started sobbing again.

"Miss Granger," he started again, confused but increasingly worried by the minute.  "You need to go to the hospital wing."

She had been staring through him until now with unfocussed eyes, but suddenly she looked straight at him.

"No…" she moaned.  "Please… nobody can find out… he'll tell."

"Who will tell, Miss Granger?" he asked her.  She didn't seem to want to answer, but began to cry in earnest.  With a sigh he sat down beside her and returned his wand in his sleeve.  "Miss Granger, what has happened to you?" he asked, this time with a sense of urgency.  Her injuries were not life threatening as far as he could see, but there could easily be more serious wounds on her.

Again, she only cried harder.  She was still shivering, and he realised that she must be freezing.  Still unsure of what to do, but reluctant to take her to the hospital wing for more than one reason (his own recent experience with Poppy Pomfrey not the least of them), he removed his cloak and awkwardly spread it over her.  She grasped it instinctively and then pulled it around her. 

"I'll be fine," she whispered through her tears.  "I just… I just can't… I need time…"

"Time for what?" he asked, again gently.  "You need treatment of some sort, and if you stay here any longer you'll risk hypothermia."

"Don't take me to the hospital wing," she said in a rush.  "Don't take me.  I'll do… anything.  What do you want?  I'll do anything."

Suddenly cold, he realised exactly what she was offering.  "Miss Granger," he said.  "I have no intention of-" he broke off suddenly, realising that her offer came from desperation, not out of insult to his integrity.  "You need treatment," he repeated firmly.  "If not the hospital wing, I shall take you back to my rooms.  And then you will tell me what happened."

His authoritative tone of voice, gentle but firm, brought out a reaction that his previous uncertainty had not.  "Yes." 

He pulled her to her feet, but they gave way underneath her.  Frowning, he picked her up easily – she was far too light – and held her as one would an infant, keeping his wand in his right hand to cast the lumos that illuminated his path.