A/N: Thank you all for your patience with this story. I've been busier than normal lately and this has sadly been put on the back burner, but as you can see it is still a work in progress.
I've also reposted the first three chapters with some edits and a change in tense that I felt fit the story better.
.
Chapter 4: Dìomhair
.
.
The first thing Hermione notices when they stop spinning is the damp. Her feet slam into the spongy ground and she sprawls, doll-like, onto the heather. She struggles to right herself; her clothes are almost instantly thoroughly wet.
The light is feeble, a fine mist hangs in the air, everything is golden-green. To her right the huge, dark presence of a mountain lurks behind the fog. She can hear rushing water somewhere to her left.
Snape is already on his feet, checking the contents of the rucksack they've brought along.
"Where are we?" she asks.
"Near one of the Order's old safehouses from the first war," he answers, "It will no longer be hidden, and I doubt that it will be habitable."
He hoists the rucksack over his shoulder and starts off in the opposite direction without another word. She has no choice but to follow.
The going is slow and seems to take hours. Snape walks in front, following the bank of the small river which winds its way through the barren landscape. He walks stoically but quickly, without pausing to make sure that she is keeping up.
The scenery is an unending panorama of mossy boulders and heather, the looming mountain a constant nearness.
Although they have been walking without pause, although she is cold and wet, although she has just lost her home, Hermione is alive for the first time in years. She breathes in the freezing air and it hits her lungs like an electric shock.
She feels reborn.
.
.
It is midday when they reach it.
The safehouse is a small, white cottage that stands alone at the end of an unpaved road on the treeless, gradual slope of the mountain. A rusty bicycle leans against the dry stone wall that surrounds the small, overgrown garden.
Snape performs a perfunctory Homenum revelio before pushing open the door. He turns back to face her for the first time since they Apparated and he suddenly stops, staring at her with one hand still on the doorknob. A strange expression (surprise? discomfort?) flickers across his face, but then the moment passes and he turns and disappears into the darkness of the cottage.
After a moment of hesitation, she follows.
He is slowly making his way around the sitting room, using his wand to light the oil lamps perched throughout the space. As it gradually becomes more illuminated, it is clear that nobody has stepped foot in this cottage in a very long while; everything is coated in a generous veneer of dust.
"It seems we have luck on our side," Snape says without looking at her, "After the secret-keeper died, the Order assumed this cottage had been destroyed by the Dark Lord's followers."
He seems on edge. Hermione fingers her wand in her sleeve, wonders if they shouldn't do a thorough sweep of the house before they settle in.
She pulls her wand out and makes her way through the cottage; the small, blue-and-white tiled kitchen, the rickety bathroom and claw-foot tub, and finally the neat bedroom with its tartan coverlet.
When she comes back to the sitting room Snape is standing stiffly, studying the fire which is now burning in the stove.
"Where exactly are we?" she asks, if only to announce her presence.
He considers the flames a moment longer before answering, "Dìomhair Cottage on the Isle of Skye. If memory serves, there are no other residents nearby, Muggle or otherwise. The nearest town is a considerable distance on foot."
They sink once more into a tense silence. The cottage suddenly feels much smaller, and oppressively warm.
.
.
It is not until much later, after Snape has settled himself on the narrow sofa by the stove and Hermione is evenly dusting off the tartan coverlet with her wand held aloft, that she catches her reflection in the circular mirror hung above the bed. At first she is not surprised to see the wild curls, the great dark eyes.
Then she realizes that her Polyjuice has worn off, must have worn off long ago. The startled look Snape gave her as he opened the cottage door comes back with a jolt.
Perhaps it's easier for him when he can pretend that she is a stranger.
.
.