Snape awoke in the morning and lay, staring at the ceiling as the previous day's events came back to him and arranged themselves in his mind. Dumbledore had told the staff. With what he had himself done to Lupin, he had better be very wary of them in case they decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. And then there was Hermione Granger, probably still asleep in his guest room.
What would be the best way to get the information out of her without hurting her any more than she had been already? She must be an extremely strong girl, he mused, to be able to hide her emotions and injuries daily when things like this happened to her regularly. And they must happen regularly, because the look in her eyes had been broken, but also resigned. He shivered. Nobody deserved to look like that, especially not a teenaged girl. Yes, he would certainly find out who had done this to her.
Snape got out of bed and crept through his still dark rooms to the guest room. The door was open a crack, and he peered through it. She seemed to be in the bed, asleep, so he decided to let her rest. Well, there was also that he wanted to be fully ready for the day when she awoke – greeting her with tousled hair and a mind still foggy from sleep was not ideal. So he showered, dressed, and ordered breakfast before settling down to read a book until she awoke.
Hermione emerged from the room an hour later, looking sleepy but otherwise her normal self. He was surprised; after last night he would have thought that she would at least be wary of him… of everybody. Taking a closer look, she seemed to have miraculously healed overnight – that or she had taught herself a lot about mediwizardry. He would bet on the latter.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," he told her. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Professor," she replied softly. Perhaps she wasn't back to her normal self, then, but very good at appearing to be so. "Is there a bathroom here?"
"Second door on the right. If you would like a shower there are clean towels in there. If you clap your hands twice a house elf will appear, and will collect spare clothes for you."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." She disappeared into the bathroom. She was definitely not much better this morning, although she looked to be fine physically. His potions and her own skills appeared to have taken care of the minor injuries, and the more painful ones had all been in areas not seen under her robes. She was brave; he would not dismiss her so thoughtlessly in future.
His gaze fell upon the fireplace, with the shattered glass lying among the soot. For a moment he considered brewing another cauldron, anything to relieve himself of the persecution he would be subjected to should the staff reveal his secret. But he took hold of himself once more. The ingredients were far too expensive… and he had promised Dumbledore that he would live a normal lifespan, and not take his own life before nature had taken the last life of his peers. Clever wording on the headmaster's part, he thought sourly. Otherwise he would have been freed with the deaths of Lily and James Potter. He scowled, not liking the route his thoughts were taking.
He had to be alert in dealing with Hermione. And tactful – a feat which would take quite a lot of effort on his part. Tact did not come easily to him. But the other way would damage her more than she had already been hurt. Whatever had been done with her needed to be dealt with, and if he alienated her further she would tell him nothing. Getting her to tell him anything would be hard enough. He sighed. He could already feel the headache coming on.
