ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND
Continued

Hermione stared up at her former professor. He was breathing roughly through his nose and his face was as white as a sheet.

Asphodel. Professor Snape. One of the leading rebels.

And yet, he hadn't tried to help me, she thought.

The overwhelming, crushing wave of abandonment surfaced, knocking the wind out of her all over again. Light-headed and increasingly dizzy, Hermione drew in air as fast as she could. Her ears started ringing and her vision clouded.

Christie gripped her under her arm and led her down the hallway, towards the living room, all the while casting glances over his shoulder, intense curiosity written all over his face. "Slow down ye breath, wane (child). In through your nose and out through your mouth. Slowly, now. Ahh, here." Christie helped Hermione onto the glider and handed her a pillow.

Hermione leaned her head down, holding the pillow in her lap, resting her forehead on it. She tried to breathe correctly. The tell-tale burning in her throat and eyes threatened, though she was desperate to hold the tears at bay. When Christie settled a warm, crocheted throw over her shoulders, hot tears trickled out, scalding her cheeks. Hermione pulled the pillow closer, one trembling hand covering her eyes, and as the fringe of the handmade throw tickled the back of her neck, the tears came faster and faster, flooding out of her.

Christie squeezed her shoulder in comfort and then he retreated, sensing her need for privacy.

Christie approached the tall man still standing in the hall, his curiosity growing by the second. His curiosity had always been stronger than his caution (his late wife, Laura, would have said 'good sense,' but that's neither here nor there). Christie's first impression was that this man could be as dangerous as he was powerful, though he sensed they were in no danger from him, the initial, ah, misunderstanding aside.

Christie bounced on his toes, full of excited energy. He'd always wanted to meet a rebel.

Christie offered him tea.

The man continued to stare down the hall, and then with a short, barely perceptible jerk, he turned towards Christie with a nod.

They entered the kitchen. The kettle lived on the hob (stove top), as much tea as the girlie drank. Christie filled it with water and turned the burner on, then selected a few mugs from the small u-shaped hooks spread out along the bottom of his cabinets.

"What's your name, stranger?" Christie asked, turning around, leaning back against the cabinet behind him. He offered an amiable smile.

The man inclined his head and leaned back against the wall a bit, crossing his arms. "Severus Snape, Mr...?"

"Ye can call me Christie, Christie Barclay."

"How...?" Snape gestured towards the living room.

Christie nodded and rolled his shoulders. "Tis complicated, t' be sure. I know only bits and pieces, meself. Say, how do ye know Hermione?"

Severus took a minute before he answered, then let out a long, weary sigh. "I was her professor for seven years. That...was a long time ago." He paused, accepting the steaming mug from Christie with a nod. "How in Merlin did she end up here? I…we thought she was dead."

Christie perched on his favourite stool, leaning back a bit with his feet crossed on the stool in front of him (something he'd perfected due to long practice), and blew back the steam rising from his mug. "She don't let on much about all she's been through. From what I've gathered, the lass walked from Scotland. Found her about two months back. She was living in the woods."

Severus's arms unfolded and he pushed away from the wall. "She's only been here for two months," he repeated, startled. He lifted his mug of tea and took a careful sip, trying to digest that bit of information. It was hard to think straight; his mind was still reeling from finding her alive, and exhaustion wasn't helping. His eyes had felt like sandpaper all day. He'd had to rely on Invigoration Draughts too much these past several years and they didn't do much for him now.

The old man across from him, his hair sticking out in every direction, his fingers interlaced over his abdomen as he tilted back on his stool a few more inches, began to elaborate a bit. He paused, shaking his head. "She's come a long way, she has. She was a sadder sight than the wild horse of Tartary."

"Has she said...the Dark Tower..." Severus's brows were drawn together tightly as he put together what he remembered with the revelation that Miss Granger was alive. "Lucius." The name was a curse under his breath. He started to pace. "Son of a warlock!" He continued to stalk back and forth in agitation.

Hermione needed a few minutes to get her emotions back under control and by that point she felt weak and shaky, wrung out. She stood up and headed towards the bathroom, unsteady on her feet. She blew her nose, splashed cold water on her face, and stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror, not seeing herself but the tall, dark form of her professor who had showed up at her door.

It took her five whole minutes to work up the courage to face him and it was only the pull of the news he might have about the Weasleys and everyone else that propelled her out of the bathroom. She found them in the kitchen, Professor Snape leaning against the south wall, scowling as darkly as ever, looking exhausted. Christie was perched on a bar stool with a playful light in his eyes, as at ease as anyone could possibly be in the company of such a man.

Christie nodded at her as she stepped over the threshold and into the bright light of the kitchen. The strength of Snape's gaze caused her to miss a step, and she almost stumbled. Reaching the dining table at last, Hermione sunk down onto a seat with little grace.

After several seconds of taut silence, Christie hopped up and approached with her reheated cup of tea, setting it in front of her before taking the seat to her left. He indicated with a wave of his hand to Snape he should take the chair opposite.

A moment passed in silence, but then the chair moved with the barest scrape against the hardwood floor and Snape sat without a word. Hermione stared rigidly at the plain wood-plank tabletop, a million traitorous questions on the tip of her tongue.

Hermione's shoulders slumped as she cast a quick, furtive glance up at her former professor. He was staring at her. She pulled her cup of tea closer and took several small sips, breathing in the comforting aroma. Finally, she asked, "Please, the Weasleys?"

Hermione closed her eyes when he started to answer. Just like before, his voice cut right through her, but she held on to every precious name he listed like a lifeline.

"Mrs. Weasley, the twins, and Miss Weasley are all safe." Hermione sucked in a sharp breath and wrapped her fingers tightly around her cup. All of her worrying, and Ginny was okay. She exhaled with a shaky breath. Snape continued, "There are others. Mr. Longbottom was recently rescued. Tonks and Hagrid are both well. There's Professors McGonagall, Vector, and Sprout; Kingsley, and...and Draco. That is about—"

"Really?" Hermione cut in. "Dra-Draco? He's alive?" She looked up and met his gaze.

"Draco's alive."

Hermione nodded, confused but relieved. Several emotions warred within. So few left. They were all so dear to her, intense joy for those who remained was shadowed by the intense pain for those who were lost. She leaned forward and set her elbow on the table, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand.

"Tis time for ye t' hit the hay, lassie."

Hermione shook her head, which she realized felt extremely heavy and clouded. Suspicion welled up and she glared as well as she could at her former professor's stoic face. "Did you—? Un...be...lieve...a…." Her head lowered down to the table, laying upon her outstretched arm, and within seconds, she was breathing deeply.

Christie sat back and stretched, a satisfied smile on his face. "Thanks kindly, Mister Snape. She needs the rest. She'll forgive us-er, eventually."

Severus stared down at Miss Granger, her short curls and fluttering eyelashes arresting his gaze.

Christie stood up, dusting off his hands. "Welp, I ought t' git her t' her room. If'n she sleeps like that all night, she'll have a crick in her neck. She won't be thanking us for that."

Snape stood and held out one hand. "There's no need. Allow me." Pulling his wand out of his sleeve, he gently Levitated Miss Granger and guided her towards the hallway. He looked over his shoulder at Christie Barclay, who was watching with an animated expression on his face. "Which room is hers?" he asked.

Christie bounded through the hallway and by them both. "Aye, laddie, yon through here." He extended his arm towards the bedroom closest to the bathroom at the end of the hall, and Severus obliged, careful not to bump her head as he Levitated her through the doorway.

It took just a second to lower her down on the mattress and he made quick work of using his wand to unfold the duvet at the end of the bed to cover her sleeping form up to her shoulders.

"May I have just a min—" Severus started to ask, but with a turn of his head, he found they were already alone. Severus exhaled slowly and sunk down to one knee beside her bed.

Heavy chains of regret and guilt had been weighing him down his entire life. The weight had been unbearable when he believed that he had failed her completely.

"I tried," he whispered. He bowed his head. "I swear upon all that is good and holy in this world, I tried."