Chapter Thirteen
"So Yer settled, then? This is the one?"
Severus looked over the façade of the small cottage in front of him in mild interest. Of all the places he had looked, this one seemed the most… affordable. The brickwork needed tending to and the roof dipped down in at least one spot, but it was slightly larger and- he would be the first to admit- leagues nicer than his home on Spinner's End. It being located in Hogsmeade was a bit of a negative in his opinion, but to be fair to the home it was in a back street far from the main shopping district and seemed quiet enough. "Yes," he replied to the man standing next to him. "Yes, I'm settled on it."
"Wonderful!" The man exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Let's get this done then, eh? Sign some papers, get ye the keys, and I'll be on my way."
Severus followed the man inside the cottage to sign over his savings in exchange for a decent place to call home, an opportunity he had never anticipated facing before. He had been resigned to his family lodging, as decrepit as it was, under the logic that he spent most of the year at Hogwarts- and what was the point of worrying about a home you barely spent time in? But now, with the weight of both places off his shoulders, a sort of fresh start lay before him. A foreign concept indeed. Once again he recognized that his life was, for the first time in decades, truly his own.
And that started with a home.
How 'coming of age,' he thought to himself as he signed the last bit of parchment with a slash of the quill and stood to shake the man's hand. My life my own, consisting of nothing but an empty cottage and many owed favors.
With the man gone and alone in his thoughts, Severus walked the cottage once more. The living space felt large now, with a fireplace at the far end and a rather large window looking out to the side yard of the house, but he knew that once his book collection from Hogwarts was properly displayed it would feel much smaller. He didn't mind smaller. It would still be larger than he was used to in a home.
The kitchen opposite was considerably larger than he was used to, and he felt he might actually spend a fair amount of time in here. It was a long room, with an icebox and wood burning stove breaking up the long wood-slab countertop. A small table and two chairs, the only bit of furniture that came with the house, was currently shoved under the open window at the end, looking out to the street. He may need to buy some thicker curtains, he considered, as the two drapes of lace blew lazily in the breeze.
The two rooms were broken up by a hallway that stretched down the length of the cottage and ended at the door to a small bathroom, a smaller hall on its right leading to the back garden door.
There were two other rooms besides the toilet, one of which he thought would work well as a bedroom. It was the smaller of the two rooms, but he didn't need much space. It was tucked behind the kitchen, a small window its only light source, and while most would find it rather depressing and dim, he found it comforted him.
The last room, he quite liked. It was larger than the living room, longer than it was wide, with a grand fireplace at one end and a window to the garden at the other. He knew it was meant to be the main bedroom, but the potential for a workspace was more tempting to him. He'd been surviving on his years of tucked away salary, but he had just spent most of that. It was time to start thinking about an income- and freelance potioneering was his best option, an option that would require a work room.
With his newfound freedom laid out in front of him, Severus decided to visit Hogwarts a few hours early. Minerva would be happy to hear of his departure from her castle, he was sure. He closed up the house, stepped out onto the walk, and briefly contemplated traveling by foot to the castle gates before choosing the unsurprising route of avoiding the masses by apparatition. With a crack, he was gone.
Hermione tapped her foot impatiently as she waited on the front steps for Ron. She loved the idea of spending time with him at Hogsmeade, just the two of them, but he was taking an awfully long time to get ready and she was both very tired and very strapped for time. Her Occlumency lesson the day prior had gone on late into the night and her head still ached, and her last meeting with the task force was in a few hours time, so the fact that she was currently sitting on the front steps waiting when she could have slept in was putting her in a foul disposition.
She checked her watch for the third time that minute and with an impatient growl jumped up and turned towards the door, throwing it open and shouting, "Ronald, let's go! I'm on a tight schedule!"
Heavy footsteps hurled themselves down the stairs and a slightly more put together Ron Weasley almost ran straight into Hermione in his rush. "Oi," he said, "I'm here, aren't I? Why're you shouting?"
Hermione stepped back and let Ron step outside. "This wasn't my idea to do this, Ron, and I have things to do. What was taking you so long?"
"If you don't want to go just say so, Hermione."
"That's not-" She stopped herself and calmed her voice as she started to walk down the lane. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Then say what you mean, because it certainly sounds like you don't want to do anything with me right now," he replied, sounding more annoyed. She stopped walking and turned towards him abruptly.
"What I want," she said, "is for you to respect my time so that when you say 'Let's head out at 9' I know you'll be ready to go at 9!"
"Oh my god," he muttered, as he walked past her. "Hermione, it is 9:15. I'm sorry your schedule is so tight that fifteen minutes derail you so badly. Maybe you should ask McGonagall for another time turner so you can avoid these issues in the future."
"You really think-"
"Can we just go?" he interrupted. "I don't want to fight. Look, I'm sorry I took longer than I said I would. Can we move past it and try to enjoy some time together?"
"Fine," she sighed. Well this will be fun.
Hogsmeade was surprisingly busy when the couple apparated to the edge of town. Even though it was still relatively early, there were plenty of shoppers bustling from one store to the next. "I guess everyone wants to get their shopping done before it gets too hot," Ron commented, looking around. "So, where to first?"
Hermione, still annoyed, tried her best to get over her bad mood quickly. "I guess we could stop by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop," she answered. "I pretty much need all new supplies this year and it would save me a stop at Diagon Alley when Ginny and I go."
Ron, looking like he was as interested in a quill shop as he would be in a History of Magic classroom, nevertheless agreed to her choice. "Lead the way," he said with a wave of his hand.
The shop visit went well to distract her from her foul mood. Shopping for school supplies tended to have a calming effect on her, and since the ministry set her up with a significant financial fund for her war efforts, she felt comfortable enough to not worry about getting by with the cheapest option. She left with a few sturdy quills, plenty of parchment and a number of good-sized inkwells. Ron offered to carry her bag for her, so in return for his bit of kindness and patience she suggested they could stop by Sprintwitches Sporting Needs next.
He's lucky I like him, Hermione thought to herself a half hour later as she walked around the same miniature display of a quidditch pitch- the tiny players darting above the field in famous replays- for what felt like the twelfth rotation. She understood her store preferences were as dull to him as this one was to her, but it didn't make her mind any less numb. She was about to walk down the row of brooms once more when she heard Ron call for her at the other end of the store.
"Hey 'Mione, what do you think?"
In the corner of the store that held dressed mannequins and rows of uniforms, she saw Ron waving to her with the most obnoxiously orange helmet strapped to his head, the sides emblazoned with two Cs and a pair of crossed cannons. She let out a short laugh at the sight of him and shook her head. Ron returned her laugh, his smile lighting up his mischievous blue eyes.
"No?" he mock-pouted, unstrapping it and holding it out to get a good look at it. "Not so much, eh?"
"Oh believe me," she said as she walked up to him, taking it from his hands and returning it to the mannequin's head. "You don't want to know how badly it clashes with your hair."
"Well let's see how you look in orange," he replied, reaching for a Chudley Cannons scarf behind her and wrapping it around her neck.
"Ron I-"
"No wait, c'mere." He pulled her over to the nearby floor length mirror and pulled her hair out from under the scarf. "Brown doesn't clash like red," he said, holding a bit of the scarf by his hair to show her the comparison. "It looks really good on you, 'Mione. See?"
Hermione pursed her lips. The scarf looked fine, but what really got to her was the look in her boyfriend's eyes as he gazed at her reflection. He seemed so excited to be sharing this moment with her, and the adoration he was giving her caused her cheeks to flush and her stomach to twist in an almost uncomfortable- but still pleasant- sort of way.
"What do you think?" he asked her, pulling her hair behind her shoulders so she could get a good look at it. She smiled, rubbing the fabric between her fingers.
"It's nice, Ron."
"Let me get it for you."
"What?" she turned to face him, gesturing outside. "It's summer. I don't need a scarf."
"It won't be summer forever," he laughed. "Please? I know you don't care about Quidditch but I'd still like to get it for you."
"I wouldn't have an opportunity to wear it." She removed the scarf from her shoulders and folded it over her arm. "Don't waste your money by buying it for me."
"Hermione, it isn't a waste," he argued as he took the scarf from her rather roughly. "It's a gift."
"If it's a gift you should save it for my birthday," she countered, and his face grew sour.
What are you doing? she thought to herself. He was so happy.
"Why are you being so stubborn?" He tossed the scarf at the wall rack- it floated back to its hanger. "I'm just trying to do something nice for you."
"I know," she tried to explain. "But I don't... I appreciate the gesture, but I don't like Quidditch."
"You don't have to like Quidditch to enjoy a nice scarf!"
"I have... other scarves." Why are you doing this? He was just being sweet. Why are you ruining it? "I'm sorry, Ron," she added. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
"You didn't hurt my feelings," he muttered, turning to leave the store. "I just don't understand why you have to be so against it."
Hermione sighed. She didn't understand why she couldn't accept a simple gift either. "I know you were just trying to share your favorite team with me," she said. "Maybe instead of buying me something…" she looked around as they stepped outside, looking for inspiration.
"Just leave it alone next time?"
His words silenced her and when she looked up at him as they walked together towards… nowhere… she grimaced. "I am sorry," she whispered.
He glanced down at her and sighed. "Let's just forget it," he muttered. After a few moments of them awkwardly standing in the middle of the street, he continued, "Okay. We still have an hour before you have to go. Where next?"
"I guess…" she looked around at the potential stores. "Did you want to grab some snacks at Honeydukes? We could take some back for Harry and Ginny." He agreed, and they walked to the store in uncomfortable silence.
The candy shop was packed as usual and the two of them broke off to maneuver through the crowd easier. She had found some peppermint toads for herself and was trying to remember if Ginny liked Sugar Quills or Fizzing Whizbees more when Ron found her, holding an armful of chocolate frogs. "Here, put them in my basket," she offered, and he dumped them in there gratefully.
"Hey, could I walk you to Hogwarts?" he asked.
"What? Why?"
She really needed to react better, she thought to herself as she watched Ron tense up defensively. "Sorry!" she said quickly, "I didn't mean I didn't want you to, I was just surprised."
Ron stared at her for a minute before asking, "Are you okay? You've been really off today."
She exhaled sharply and threw both candies into the basket before she responded. "I know. I don't know what's wrong. I guess I'm just… tired. Last night's lesson took its toll on me."
"Any lesson with Snape would put me in a foul mood." At her glare he added, "I know, I know, it's different now. He's a good teacher. He's helping you get your magic back." His tone wasn't exactly supportive, but it showed he had been listening.
"Exactly. He's teaching me something very difficult, is all."
"I just don't think I'll ever be able to see past the six years of abuse he put us through. I don't understand how you can."
Hermione really didn't feel like having this conversation again. She rolled her eyes and said, "I've told you a hundred times, Ron. War changes everything. Besides," she continued as she shifted the basket to the crook of her arm, "we aren't how we used to be. I'm no longer a child under his care, he treats me like an equal now."
"If that's how he treats children-"
"Ron, stop." Her head throbbed as her frustration spiked. "We've hashed this out a million times already. Don't make me explain it again."
Ron frowned, but took the basket from her arms and nodded.
"Well, maybe today will be better," he said as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. She wished it comforted her. "Are you ready to pay? Oh, Ginny loves these. Good pick."
Since Ron was joining her they decided to walk to Hogwarts a bit early. The trek was quiet, but they were able to drum up a bit of conversation along the way. They talked about their past trips to Hogsmeade as students, the foreboding energy of the forbidden forest looming in the distance, and other shallow conversational topics- the tension of the morning still hung heavily between them and they both chose to avoid a more serious discussion. When they stepped through the gates of the Hogwarts castle, the magical wave of the ward gave her goosebumps.
The task force was meeting near the quidditch pitch today, so it was a short walk from the entrance. Since they were so early, there weren't many people around yet, but she could see Snape nearby, checking some papers at a table under a canopy- most likely the target goals for the pitch. He looked up when they came closer, and she waved, a pleasant smile creeping over her face. He nodded briefly, acknowledging her, before turning his attention back down to the plans.
Hermione turned towards Ron to say goodbye, when she noticed his face had soured. "What is it?" she asked.
"Nothing," he said, roughly. "Enjoy your club time."
He turned to walk away but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said. "What's wrong? I thought we were okay?"
Ron looked over her head towards the canopy and rubbed his neck before answering, "You look happier to see Snape than you've looked all morning with me. What am I supposed to make of that?"
Hermione blinked, thrown off guard. "You… think I'd rather hang out with Snape than with you?"
"You certainly make it look that way."
"Are you serious?" she pulled him farther away from the group and hissed, "Are you actually serious right now?"
"Well what am I supposed to think, Hermione?!" His face flushed and he tensed up in defense. "You hated every minute we spent together but the second you see him all of a sudden it's-"
"I did not hate it!"
"Well you weren't having a good time!" His voice rose and she quickly shushed him, but it was mostly ineffective. "From the very beginning you were acting like it was the last place you wanted to be."
"What do you think is going on, Ronald?" she snapped. "That I only went out with you to kill time until I got to see him again?"
"He sure seems to be more important to you these days! First you're ditching us to sit at his bedside, then you're running to bring him the paper-"
"Ron, be quiet, people can hear you!"
"Then you convince him to train you in occlumency-"
"Where is this even coming from?"
"And I guess you're buddy-buddy with him now at the task force?!"
She finally growled and threw her hands up in exasperation, and he halted his tirade.
"If you won't let me speak then let me save us both some time, Ronald." She shoved the bags of candy towards him roughly. "Go home. You're being absolutely ridiculous."
"Fine," he grumbled, snatching the bags. "I hope you two have fun."
Hermione watched in absolute astonishment as he stormed back to the gates, still unsure what had just happened and where that had come from.
Well that was certainly something.
Severus made sure to still look busy when Miss Granger walked back to the group. She maintained her distance but her outrage and embarrassment could be seen in every inch of her frame. Clearly things weren't going well between the two. Personally he couldn't see anyone working well with Weasley, but who was he to judge?
Others were beginning to arrive now. He stepped back from the table to allow them a chance to look at the day's notes, and contemplated the young woman still standing sullenly off to the side, staring out at the quidditch stands. It really wasn't a surprise that both her and Weasley would be on edge. The Final Battle was only three months ago and while he knew of Miss Granger's struggles, he knew next to nothing about what Weasley was dealing with, let alone what he was doing about it. Was Weasley even aware of what she was going through? Somehow Severus doubted it. The boy was barely competent on a good day. For crying out loud, he was under the impression that Granger had a preference for an old professor over her own boyfriend. Surely that was not the case.
Right?
She'd be a fool, he thought as he turned towards a newly-arrived Flitwick, painfully on schedule as usual. The smaller man hurried over to the table, stepping up on a crate and rearranging the rolls of parchment as he shouted out a greeting.
"Hello, hello!" he called out to the crowd, and Miss Granger finally turned her attention to the group and stepped forward. Carefully avoiding his eye contact, Severus realized. "Hello and welcome! I am beyond thankful to each and every one of you for your hard work in rebuilding the wards around the castle. It has been a joy to work alongside you all, and as I'm sure you are all aware, today will be the final time we work together in this capacity.
"Now," he continued, "For this last task I ask for you to partner up, as I'll need both a caster and a cast-assisting role today. While we've been able to rebuild much of the arena, the magical spellcasting that dwelled in the Quidditch Pitch needs replacing, and with the wards around Hogwarts completed I have decided it would make a fine send off project for us all." He gestured to the table in front of him, laden with parchment rolls, and added, "I have missives explaining each job I need fulfilled today, so please, grab one and partner up, and if you have any questions, ask away!"
Severus despised group work, but gods did he still feel like he owed this place his time. And as much as he would have preferred to work alone, he could see benefit in Miss Granger working in a pair. Despite the progress she had made, the emotional upset she had just experienced could potentially set her back and cause her to be a liability. In fact, he thought to himself uncomfortably, it would be best for someone who's familiar with her trauma and magical work to lead her. In other words, me.
She was standing at the table studying the different missives when he walked over and took one. "You're with me," he told her, holding the parchment out to her. "We're going to secure and fire proof the inner beams and supports. Not a difficult task, but tedious and energy consuming."
Her eyes grew large in surprise as she looked up at him- only to quickly divert her gaze as her cheeks grew pink- but not before Severus saw dark bags under her eyes. Apparently she hadn't slept much after their lesson- even more reason to watch her closely. "Are we assigned partners?" She asked, her voice tight with her discomfort.
If only I could trust someone else to take this role. "No, Miss Granger, but I think it wise if you were to stay with me." At her questioning glance he elaborated, "Who else here knows of the severity of your trauma?" When she said nothing, he continued, "Should you experience another traumatic stress attack, you could do some serious magical damage. Hence," he held up the parchment he was still holding and handed it to her, "an easier task."
She read over the missive, her tension visibly easing as her initial concern faded. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Thank you for thinking of me," she said, an awkward half smile forming. "It sometimes feels like I'm the only one I can rely on."
"Yes, well, I can relate to that," he muttered, walking down the path towards the stands. He shoved aside a heavy tapestry and walked into the dark underbelly of the stadium, holding the makeshift door for Miss Granger who quickly stepped in next to him.
As he let the tapestry fall, the lights grew dim and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dreary lamplit corridors of wooden beams and fabric dividers. Sunlight did not reach this place through all the drapery lining the outer ring, and the poor lighting combined with the creaking and groaning of the supports gave the whole place an unsettling, cavernous vibe.
"It's... eerie," she said quietly beside him. "It feels like we shouldn't be down here."
"Is that so? Because it didn't seem to bother you as a first year when you were in a hurry to light my cloak on fire."
He looked down at her next to him, eyebrow raised, and his lips twitched into an almost-smile as he watched her cheeks flush what must have been a considerable color for him to see it in this light.
He must have shocked her, because her voice was quite sharp when she asked, "You knew that was me?!"
"I caught a glimpse of memory from that particular incident," he admitted. "I've been waiting to chastise you for it, when the time was right. Thank you for giving me that opportunity." He started walking down the path winding to the left, under the outer ring of stands.
"Wait!" she rushed after him. "You- I thought you weren't looking for anything?"
"I'm not," he answered as he scoped out the beams above. "But I still catch glimpses. Most of them don't make any sense."
She leaned herself against a beam in front of him, wrapping her arm around it. "Most of them. So are you holding onto other memories to chastise me over? For when the time is right?"
"Not necessarily to chastise you over."
"But there are more."
He made a noise of agreement before turning to her and adding, "But we are not down here to gossip. We are down here to work. Now," he gestured to the missive, "Professor Flitwick would like us to join our magics to increase our area of effect. I will need you to allow me access to your magic to power my spells. With enough of an effort, we can be done here in time for a quick lunch."
Mostly unnecessary, magic boosting is something that is predominantly used in large project situations such as muggle repulsion or security, something required in warding an entire castle and grounds, amongst other grand tasks. Taking on another witch or wizard's magic is a strange sensation, even stranger that it changes per person. The first time Severus merged magics with someone, he had felt uncomfortably hot, prickly sensations all over his skin. Another had left him feeling like an icy wave had struck his chest, and the most recent case, his merge with Minerva whilst working on the castle, felt damp and cool as if he was walking through a light autumn rainstorm, a refreshing feeling in the summer heat.
Miss Granger's magic, as it entered him, felt pleasantly warm, and thick like honey. Yet there was a sharpness to it as well, keeping it from being weighted and adding an urgency to it, almost as if it were a herd of stallions or a raging river. All in all, it was a solid, flowing force of power that left him momentarily overwhelmed as it moved through to his own magic and joined.
The moment passed, and as he adjusted to the combination of magics coursing through his body, he began casting.
The monotony of the task soon got the better of him and he began to lose focus on his surroundings as he lost himself in the repetition of the spellwork. Three quarters of the way around the building, almost an hour into the project, he could feel a tug in his casting. He turned to look back at his companion as he realized it was her magic slipping from his, pulling away from him. Before he could say or do anything she stumbled and grabbed a wooden support for balance.
"Miss Granger, are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm-" weakly she moved to sit on a low horizontal beam. "I'm okay, I just need a rest."
He frowned, his concern growing at the sight of her unusually pale appearance. "I can finish the rest on my own-"
"No!" she shook her head quickly, oddly upset at the prospect of quitting. "No, I just need five minutes. I can finish it, I promise."
Her insistence gave him pause. "Very well, then," he agreed, though hesitant a short break was going to make any sort of a difference. "Five minutes."
The two of them remained awkwardly silent and he contemplated walking down the path a bit to scope it out, but decided against leaving her alone for even a brief moment, just to be sure. Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against a brace, waiting for her to recover.
"I'm sorry for making you wait," he heard her say quietly, and he looked over to where she sat, her hands fidgeting together in the same nervous habit he had first noticed during his stay in St Mungo's. Had she done that as a student? He couldn't remember. He was not in the habit of hyper-analyzing his student's nervous tics.
"Take your time, Miss Granger," he answered her softly. "Don't push yourself. We'll still be able to finish when you're up for it."
She nodded gratefully. "I... didn't get much sleep last night," she offered as an explanation.
"I assumed as such." He paused for a moment before asking, "Was it the training?"
She nodded once more. "I know I have no right to complain," she said, staring down at the ground, "and I'm not. But while last night was productive, it left my mind open and vulnerable. I spent the night having flashbacks I haven't had in quite a while."
Severus's stomach sunk. The prior night, he had instructed her in using her mental shield during a series of duels. The purpose of the training was to strengthen her ability to hold onto a shield whilst distracted, thus allowing her the skillset to focus on her magic during times of stress, but he should have foreseen this obvious side effect. He had put her straight back into a fight or flight mindset and sent her home with little to no preparation on how to handle it. How had he missed that?
"Miss Granger, I fear I owe you an apology." She met his eyes in mild surprise and he continued on, "I failed to see this outcome in your training, and thus I failed to prepare you for it." He pushed himself from the brace and stepped closer to her. "We have one more session together before start of term. I will be sure not to make the same mistake again."
Miss Granger held onto a support as she stood, shaking her head. "Thank you sir, but I don't feel like an apology is necessary at all," she replied. "You told me at the start of this that none of it would be easy. You offered me plenty of opportunities to back out if I felt the need to do so. You have been nothing but fair to me."
"You give me far too much credit," he muttered, looking her over. "Nevermind that now though. How are you feeling?"
"I'm actually feeling better now," she responded with a slight smile. "We can continue if you'd like."
"Are you certain?" When she nodded again he continued, "Very well. I'm ready for your boost when you are."
The warm honey sensation of her magic washed over him once again, but it lacked the urgency of before. He made a note to pay attention to the feeling as he began once more to cast over the beams. In truth, he was thankful she was still here to assist. The magical boost gave him a far greater range and made the job that much easier to complete.
It wasn't long before they were approaching their starting point. Severus hadn't felt a change in their magics since resuming, yet as he cast the final spell he felt her magic pull away from his with a snap, as if being tugged from him with violence. He turned just in time to see her drop down onto a low plank.
"Miss Granger?" Now more concerned than before, he began walking towards her, but she waved a hand dismissively in his direction.
"I'm all right," she said, attempting to reassure him, but the breathlessness of her voice was anything but. "I just need to sit a moment."
He watched as the young woman leaned forward, head hung low and hair falling in front of her face. She was shaking, he saw, as she put a hand up to push her hair from her eyes. She had let herself get far too drained.
"For goodness' sake, girl, why didn't-" He bit his tongue as she shivered and slid off the plank, sitting roughly on the hay-sprinkled earth and leaning her head against the wood. This is why she needs an escort, he brooded to himself as he walked over and knelt beside her. Her skin was pale and covered in beads of sweat, and she raised a shaking hand to her temple as she opened her mouth to apologize.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I should have said something sooner."
"Yes, you should have."
She grimaced. "I know. I just kept thinking... we're almost done... just a few more minutes..."
"It's better to finish slowly than not at all, Granger," he retorted, then let out an aggravated sigh. "How many times have you merged magics?"
"Quite a few," she replied, her voice soft. "Flitwick had me assist many times during all of this... but they were for shorter durations." She suddenly groaned and hit her fist against the ground. "I hate that I'm so weak lately!" she shouted in frustration. "I swear I'm not trying to burden you."
And yet here we are.
She continued to rant. "I just can't stand the fact that I can't seem to to finish anything anymore! I can't complete one of our sessions without falling straight into bed after, I work myself into an exhaustion every time I assist with the wards, and even when all I'm doing is boosting I-"
He interrupted her. "Admitting your own limitations does not make you weak, Granger. And the more you push yourself, the worse this will become. You need to accept the fact that you're still rebuilding your magical strength or you're going to permanently damage it."
"What?!" she sat straight and stared at him in a panic. "Permanently? This can be permanent?"
"Yes, so stop being stubborn and allow yourself to slow down."
She glared at the ground for a moment, and he could almost feel the frustration in her eyes emanating off of her. He stood abruptly, holding his hand out to her as he said, "We're done, then. You need to rest before you head home so let's get you out of here. Can you stand?" She nodded and gave him her hand, and he pulled her up. "Then let's go."
Hermione was still quite worn out as she floo'd to the Burrow a few hours later, but for the most part felt recovered. Snape had practically dragged her up to McGonagall's office, who set her up in a soft, oversized chair by the fire and summoned her finger sandwiches and a cool pitcher of water. After enduring another lecture about taking it easy and not being allowed to leave until she was deemed fit to do so, all Hermione wanted was to go straight to bed, pretend the day hadn't happened and try again tomorrow.
Ron was in the kitchen as she walked by. Their eyes met, but she said nothing as she made her way to the stairs. She heard him follow her, but before he could say anything and without turning around she just said, "No. We're not doing this right now."
She heard him start ascending the stairs after her. "'Mione, wait-"
"I said no!" she yelled, turning around sharply, gripping the railing harder than usual to steady herself. "Leave me alone, Ron. I just want to go to bed."
"We haven't even had dinner yet," he called after her as she started walking away from him again.
"Good night, Ron."
Thankfully Ginny's room was nearly empty when Hermione entered it. The cot that was shoved in the corner, her bed, was currently occupied by an orange mass that stood and stretched as she approached. "Hey, Crooks," she muttered, sitting next to him and rubbing one of his ears. "I could use some love right now. Just when I think I'm getting better..."
She sighed and threw herself down onto her pillow, and Crookshanks trudged over and nuzzled her chin, causing her to giggle softly. "I can always count on you to make me feel better," she muttered to him as he curled against her. She ran her fingers through his fur, feeling his deep purr as she closed her eyes, not even bothering to get ready for bed before falling into a deep sleep.
A/N: Stay tuned for the next chapter, coming to you sooner rather than later to make up for the wait for this one! My goal is tomorrow but I just got my first Covid shot so we'll see how it makes me feel. So far so good!
