As Hermione made her way to Snape's room, she had a bit of time to think.

Because her head was pounding, she walked with her eyes half closed, feeling her way across the walls.

As she neared the dungeons, the cool air and darkness soothed her eyes and she opened them.

If she was honest with herself, she maybe sort of hoped that Snape HAD molested her. Disappointing that she was asleep during it.

Asleep. Passed out.

She wondered if perhaps passing out nearly every night gave her brain damage.

She hoped not.

But, brain damage she could take. The screaming nightmares in which she would reach for Ron's blood soaked hand and it would slip out of hers as he was dragged away. As she was dragged away in the other direction to be raped to near death by the Death eaters.

He saved her.

That stupid Snape saved her.

She growled in the darkness.

It was his fault she couldn't sleep, couldn't close her eyes. Couldn't pause a moment without crying, because the pain was so near to the surface.

She hadn't slept properly in weeks.

Day after day she'd wake up where she'd passed out. Sometimes in the bath, filled with freezing cold water that had cooled over the night. Sometimes in the SHOWER, where she'd had the water running on her face the whole night.

Last night she'd made it out of the shower.

She often went to the shower to cry. She supposed it went back to when she was younger, when she wanted to cry… She'd tell her parents she was off to have a shower, and sit on the ground and cry and cry. The water would wash away the tears, wash away the swollen eyes and lips. No one would even know.

She frowned and shook her head as she felt the tears prickle her eyes again.

No. No more crying. Wait until after you've given Snape his stupid jacket. And kicked him in the shins too. Bastard.

She knocked on the door and waited, unconsciously bringing the robe up to smell.