Chapter 9: A Quiet Place to Sleep

She had to give him credit for not inundating her with questions as soon as she walked into his laboratory. Then again, Professor Snape never was one for asking questions about a student, or former student's, wellbeing. She was very much aware of the deep red cut across her left cheek. It was healing quite well, and another twenty-four hours would find it gone. The rash was another matter entirely.

When her potion was contaminated, she was doused in the volatile substance it had become. One of the glass shards of the phial cut her cheek, but her skin immediately reacted to the sticky green goo of the potion, creating a red rash on her left check and down her neck, vanishing beneath the collar of her shirt. The doctors at St. Mungo's told her that they were unfamiliar with the rash, but assumed it had something to do with the potion. They seemed confident that time would clear it up with the help of an all-purpose healing salve.

After the accident the previous night, she had not slept. A series of people had paraded through her home, attempting to determine if the substance was toxic or if it was simply a mess to be cleaned up. Though all of her neighbors were wizards or witches, they were still concerned about her unauthorized experimentation in the building. She was promptly kicked out pending a hearing by the residents' association the following week. She wasn't sure if she would be allowed to return. Her personal things were currently shrunk and packed in her suitcase beside Snape's door.

It took him fifteen minutes to ask. They were both working at their separate work stations, and he spoke without even turning around. "Do you mind telling me where you received your injuries, Miss Granger?"

Hermione grimaced. She wanted to get through this day without Snape finding out what an incompetent fool she had been. Storing potentially dangerous ingredients directly above a cauldron in use was generally a bad idea. "I'd prefer not to talk about it, Professor."

By ten o'clock he turned around to face her, crossing his arms over his chest. She could feel his eyes boring into her back. Hermione was sure she looked a right mess with the rumpled set of robes she had thrown on this morning after leaving St. Mungo's and her hair only pinned back haphazardly.

She turned around and let out a deep breath. "Yes, sir?"

"If you tell me what happened, then perhaps I might be able to give you something for the rash," he said in an even tone. She couldn't discern any worry or concern in his voice, nor could she hear mocking or exasperation.

Hermione touched the rash on her neck. It burned slightly when it came in contact with anything. "I was working on a potion last night, and my cat knocked a phial of something, as yet unidentified, into a half-completed potion. It exploded, and I was covered. The doctors at St. Mungo's say it should clear up in the next two to three weeks."

Snape raised his brow at her.

She felt like sinking into the earth. Instead, she rubbed her eyes and returned his gaze wearily. "I've been kicked out of my flat until the association meets next week to discuss if I should be allowed to return." Hermione paused and then continued, "I assure you that this will not effect my performance here. I intend to give as much effort as you are accustomed to receiving from me."

"Place a Stasis charm on your potion and follow me," Snape said. He waited in the hallway for her while she stopped the brewing process. Hesitantly, she followed him down the hall and into one of the rooms that was always closed off to her. It was an office. The room was not exceptionally large, holding only an old, battered desk, three bookshelves, and two wooden chairs. The only other piece of furniture she saw was a cabinet that he was standing before. He opened the door and rummaged around inside before pulling out a clear jar of light blue jelly. Snape motioned for Hermione to have a seat in one of the wooden chairs. She quickly slid into the seat and watched his slow movements with wide eyes.

"This is a healing salve," he said as he pulled the other chair closer to sit in front of her. "I'm sure they gave you something similar at St. Mungo's, but they don't buy their products from me. This will work much better." He unscrewed the lid of the jar and hesitated. For a moment she thought he was going to dip his fingers into the jelly and spread it over her rash. Hermione's heart was pounding, and she felt incredibly nervous and vulnerable.

Snape offered the jar to her, and she took it from his hand, taking care not to touch his fingers. "Thank you," she said.

"Cover the rash with the salve three times a day, and it should be gone within two days."

Hermione laughed softly, her nervousness edging its way into her tone. "I wish you could fix my flat this easily."

Snape waited until she dipped her fingers into the jelly and spread it over her cheek before he stood and walked over to the window. "Your flat is completely your responsibility, Miss Granger. You should be more careful where you place your ingredients."

The salve was a welcome coolness on her irritated skin, and she applied it liberally to her cheek, neck, collarbone, and shoulder. The discomfort of the rash was nearly gone by the time she finished and replaced the cap on the jar. "I admit I was careless in regards to the phials and jars sitting on the shelf. I just can't believe they've kicked me out until the association meets. I had to ask Harry and Ron if I could stay with them."

Snape turned around to face her with a sour expression on his face. "Still carousing with those miscreants, Miss Granger? Have you not learned your lesson and grown out of those bothersome wizards?"

Hermione simply shook her head at him. His animosity toward Harry had ceased to bother her or raise her hackles. When it came to Harry, Snape was as childish as anyone, denouncing the youngest Potter like Harry was carrying on his father's legacy of teasing the less fortunate students.

Hermione was running on two hours of sleep in the past two days. Her hair was a knotted mess, dark circles were visible beneath her weary eyes, and her clothes were a wrinkled disaster. She had thought staying with Harry and Ron would solve her problem. They could spend time together and catch up while she got a free room, or sofa, until her flat was inhabitable again. She was still holding out hope that they would not evict her from the building for the minor mishap.

Unfortunately, Harry and Ron kept her up most of the night. They talked, played games, and insisted on waking her with a rude prank every time she was able to fall asleep. She wasn't too upset with them because she felt as if the three of them had fallen back into old times, staying up late and talking until the wee hours of the morning like best friends should. However, two hours of sleep was not conducive to working the following day.

Snape raised an eyebrow when she entered the laboratory that morning, but he did not venture to say anything or inquire about her state of disarray. It was one small favor in a morning from hell. Her eyes were bleary and strained, and her limbs felt unbearably heavy.

By ten o'clock that morning she was beyond exhausted. Potion-making was not an activity for those with little to no sleep under their belts. Hermione had five cauldrons with a different potion in each one. She was moving one of the cauldrons to the right for bottling when her grip faltered, and the brew slipped from her hands. She was just fast enough to step away as the cauldron smacked against the corner of the counter and crashed onto the floor. The liquid inside was a remover for stuck objects, and it splattered across the bottom of Snape's immaculate robe. The horror was written on Hermione's face, but she could not will herself into movement.

Snape turned, calmly pulled out his wand, and banished the acidic liquid before righting the cauldron and placing it back on the countertop. There was no lasting damage except the singeing along the bottom few inches of his robe. "I'm so sorry, Professor," Hermione said, hiding her face in her hands.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, why my otherwise neat and tidy assistant looks as horrible as the mess she has just made on my laboratory floor?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed several times before she could form actual sounds and words. "I'm staying with Harry and Ron while the building association discusses my future in the flat after that potions accident. They're both quite a handful."

Snape raised both his brows at her this time. "A handful?"

Hermione blushed and backtracked. "Oh no, there's nothing… nothing between either of them and myself. I mean to say that they are loud, rambunctious boys with no concept of time or how to be quiet so I can get some rest. They're accustomed to staying up late and going out for drinks with their mates on the Quidditch team."

Crossing his arms, Snape leaned back against the counter and ran his eyes over her once. "That is the curse of staying with two such idiots, I'm afraid. Your lack of rest is your own fault."

She was running on minimal sleep, and his commentary on what she should and shouldn't do was extremely irritating. "Well, it's not like I had any other place to go on such short notice, nor did I want to impose on anyone." Hermione whirled around to face her cauldrons again. She began chopping an asphodel root, the knife slicing through it easily and smacking into the countertop with considerable force.

"You may want to check that attitude of yours at the door, Miss Granger," Snape said.

"You may want to do the same, Professor." Hermione flinched and bit her lip as soon the words came out of her mouth. He's either going to kill me or kick me out of his house, Hermione thought as she finished chopping the ingredient. And I deserve both punishments. That was incredibly rude of me.

Instead of an irate Snape hauling her out of his house by the scruff of her neck, she got the cold shoulder the remainder of the day, even though he still bought her lunch like he had every other day that week.

Hermione felt like she was losing her mind. Harry and Ron simply did not understand the importance of sleep. Her second night at their flat was filled with friends coming and going, a barrage of new acquaintances, and several blind dates that Hermione barely managed to squeeze out of at the last minute. Either they were always up and about or her presence had brought about party week in the Potter/Weasley household. Crookshanks was unbearably annoyed with the current living situation, and he made it known by shredding her favorite pair of pants.

Her workday was not fairing any better than the previous evening. By two o'clock Hermione had managed to cut the tip of her index finger with a sharp blade and ruin two batches of a potion that used expensive ingredients. Snape barely concealed his irritation over her poor performance. She had apologized profusely, but the words seemed to mean very little to him.

"Professor, I truly am sorry about this," she said, scrubbing the cauldron clean. "I just need a good night's rest, and I'll be back to my old self."

Snape emerged from the storage room with the necessary ingredients to brew the botched potion again. "I suggest you find another place to say, Miss Granger. I will not have these debacles happening every day because you insist upon staying with these so-called friends. They're a bad influence on your work, and I refuse to be inconvenienced by their actions through you."

"I would go elsewhere, but I feel as if I'd be imposing," she snapped at him. Snape knew just what to say to make her angry, and she found that she was rising to the occasion more often now that he had not fired her at the first sign of her impudence.

He snatched the cauldron out of her hands. "Pack your things and stay here for all I care, but I cannot work with someone who causes daily accidents and wastes my stores."

Hermione opened her mouth, but the angry remark died on her lips when she realized what he had just said. Snape had offered her a place to stay until her apartment was available again. At first she thought she would have to be certifiably insane to take him up on that offer, but then she remembered the hectic nights at the boys' flat. She was reasonably sure that Professor Snape spent his evenings in quiet study or brewing potions until the light was too dim to see by, which was much more appealing than war stories and practical jokes.

"Are you serious about your offer?" she asked.

Snape dumped a cup of pomegranate seeds into the cauldron. "If that's what it will take to regain my competent employee, then I am willing to sacrifice my solitude for a day or two."

"Thank you, sir. I'll consider it." Hermione returned to her work and smiled to herself. Severus Snape had actually made a nice gesture and offered to help her in a time of need. What was the world coming to?

She mulled the decision over in her head for the rest of the afternoon, weighing the pros and cons of both choices. When her work was finally completed, she cleared her throat and waited for Snape to acknowledge her.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Does your offer still stand, Professor?"

He stopped his work and turned to face her. "I suppose so," Snape replied cautiously. "Why?"

"I would like to accept, if you don't mind."

He looked only slightly uncomfortable, but quickly recovered with a shrug. "Very well."

Author's Note: Huge thanks to Snarkyroxy for beta-ing this fic. Also thanks to Allyness and Jessica for lending me their eyes. My apologies for not updating for an entire week. I'm making up for it right now with three chapters.