A/N: Please give some thanks to my Brit-picker PomBear007~
CHAPTER SIX—Shelter
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Snow pattered against the mottled glass only to melt. Hermione, Luna, and Ginny stared dully at the rivulets. Exams had taken their toll on the students. Tomorrow, everyone else would ride the train home. But not the war heroes-turned-babysitters.
Hermione had longed for the solitude Christmas would bring. Instead, Ron and Neville played Exploding Snap with Septima and Rolanda. Watching snow melt with Luna and Ginny—quietly—offset the squeals of children and the pop of cards.
Hermione traced a melt-trail with her finger. It won't be snowing in Australia, she thought. I wonder if Mum and Da are having a nice Christmas.
Bang!
"For the love of Merlin," Ginny grumbled. She slammed her chin down on her arms.
Septima and Rolanda thought the smouldering cards were hilarious—tears-in-their-eyes hilarious. They were giving Neville a run for his money.
"Mona, you make sure ze babies stay on ze blanket, okay?"
Professor Sprout bobbed her head up and down. Baby Aurora was in the crawling stage of development; baby Sybill could roll on her stomach but not much else. "'Rora, come back!" Pomona said, trying to distract the Astronomy professor with a hankie.
"What are you doing, Professor Weasley?" Luna inquired politely when she noticed her and Lavender standing in front of Hermione's bedroom door.
"Ze kids said zey had problems getting into some of ze rooms. I noticed everyone 'as wards on zeir doors and we should take zem off."
Hermione's discomfort must have shown on her face—perhaps it was the widening of her eyes or the stiff angle of her chin.
"Only until ze professors change back to normal," Fleur added. Hermione's door had seven different repelling and locking spells on it. Neville's door had three, Ron's door had one, and Lavender hadn't added any defences.
"That makes sense," Hermione said. What she meant was: I haven't slept in a room without wards for the past year and I'd really rather you didn't take them down but I can't very well say that with everyone staring at me.
Bang!
"I lost again!" Neville complained, tossing his cards on the table. Black ashes clung to his fingertips. Rolanda and Septima high-fived. Ron smirked, glad to have narrowly missed defeat.
"Look at that," Luna whispered to Ginny and Hermione. She nodded towards the opposite corner.
Severus sat alone; the tiniest boy in the room had shoved himself into a tiny ball, clutching the arms of the chair. His knees were curled up to his neck.
"It must be the cards," Luna remarked.
"He did that earlier, too," Hermione said. "When I touched his shoulder to get his attention—had a little panic attack."
Severus unfolded his legs from his chest, but remained twitchy and tense.
"I'm not sure how we can fix something like that," Ginny murmured.
Hermione said, "He just needs to feel safe."
"Don't we all?"
"Leave it to the Ravenclaw to become philosophical," Ginny sighed. She and Luna turned back to the window. The fire from inside lit the white flakes as they threw themselves against the glass.
"He's just not comfortable with us all yet." Hermione put her head in her hand before she continued. "A part of him knows he doesn't actually like us—that we're all just his nasty students that set his robes on fire."
"What was that about fire?" Ginny asked, eyebrows twisting.
"Nothing."
Luna said, "I always thought he was a good teacher."
"I always thought he was a berk," Ginny retorted.
"That's what I'm talking about—he can sense it," Hermione stressed. "He knows we know him and vice versa—he just doesn't remember how."
"I think my brain is gonna explode." Ginny rubbed her temples for emphasis. "I wonder what it feels like to be a kid again."
"I have the feeling we're going to find out what it feels like once our professors turn back into professors," Luna said. "In very colourful terms."
"Merlin, Professor McGonagall's gonna make that face."
Hermione was confused. "What face?"
Ginny explained, "The disapproving-line face."
Luna said, "Oh, that face."
Hermione was surprised they didn't shake the window out of the wall, they were laughing so hard.
"Sinistra and Trelawney are going to be right miffed when they find out someone's been changing their nappies," Ginny snickered.
Luna covered her face, embarrassed for the two professors. Who wouldn't be horrified by that?
"Alright." Hermione heaved herself up from the chair. "Sevvie needs a bath. And I think he's had enough excitement," she stressed, nodding towards the current raucousness of Exploding Snap.
"Oh, the girls should have a bath too," Luna said. "Perhaps tomorrow, before we take them outside?"
"I can't wait to get out of this castle." Ginny stretched her arms behind her head, cracking her shoulders.
"You're not the only one—the kids are going mad in here."
Earlier in the day, Rolanda had convinced Septima to climb on her shoulders "just for the fun of it." The two girls had fallen onto Mona and caused a considerable amount of tears. Rolanda had also found every spider in the room and then shepherded them all down the back of Severus's and Minerva's jackets—which caused even more tears. (Severus held them back until he made it to the safety of 'Mione's bathroom; Minerva had reared back and scratched Rolanda in the face—a just punishment, in Ginny's opinion.)
Severus looked up at 'Mione—she made sure he could see her walking closer. Last time she had snuck up on him, he nearly jumped out of his socks. "Bath time," she said. "Then bed time."
Bath time.
The worst time ever.
Sevvie's mind began screaming, reminding him of all the cold water he had to sit in, his bum scratching on the wooden bottom of the bath bucket, shivering under a thin towel. He glanced all around while 'Mione looked down at him. There was only the fireplace—and no barrel.
He was supposed to take a bath in front of everyone? He turned red. He didn't want them all looking at him and giggling. Then his brain remembered—'Mione's bathtub.
"W-where?" he stuttered.
"In my washroom."
Sevvie hopped up. "Okay." He bobbled along behind 'Mione, grinning from ear to tiny ear. This was the first time in his life he was happily going to the bath. He had only ever had two warm baths in his life; today would be his third—and it wasn't even a special occasion!
'Mione fetched the whitest, fluffiest towel Severus had ever seen from the cupboard. She offered it to him.
I can't touch it—it will get dirty! Instead he shoved his fingernails in his mouth and hoped she wouldn't force him to hold it.
'Mione looked at him like he was batty but didn't stress the issue. Severus relaxed when she set the towel on top of the toilet. As she turned the taps she told him, "I'll gather your night clothes while the water is running. Then you'll have it all to yourself."
All to myself…
The claw-foot tub was as big as a house and whiter than the snow outside—what if he drowned? Or made the tub dirty? Severus wanted to touch the porcelain—reached out for it. Then he drew his hand back.
"'Mione…"
She didn't hear him; she continued shuffling around his clothes in the bedroom.
"'Mione…" he groaned around his fingertips. The tub was just sitting there, sparkling at him. Filling with blue, bubbly water.
"Alright, your clothes are here on the sink." She was so tall, with her hands on her hips. "Something wrong?"
"I…" He looked at the tub. In the corner of his eye he could see Hermione reaching for him. He flinched away and felt bad immediately after—she looked kind of sad with her fingertips hovering in front of his shoulder.
"I'll be right outside," she said instead of being mad. The water stopped crashing around. Why did she always smile at him instead of tell him to shut up? He always said the wrong thing. As she backed out the door, she said, "Take as long as you want. Call for me if you need me."
All he could do was nod.
Hermione shut the door.
He's never going to feel safe, she thought.
A horrendous twitch jerked in her wand hand—Professor Weasley had finished taking all the wards off the door. Hermione frowned at the useless slab of wood separating her bedroom from the rest of the world. Then she looked back to the washroom.
The witch growled, frustrated, and got ready for bed. Perhaps if she just lay in bed for a while she'd forget about the missing wards and fall to sleep.
Severus swam around the giant tub, splashing and laughing. Fear of leaving dirty fingerprints dissolved as bubbles gathered on the top of his head. He couldn't remember ever having such a fun bath before. Where were all these bubbles coming from?
The young wizard could pretend he was a fish in the ocean or maybe a shark or a jellyfish. He squiggled through the water. Sevvie relished in the warm water on his cheeks and eyelids, trying to drink all the water through his skin just in case he never had another hot bath again.
Bubbles formed like a Santa-beard on his chin. He splashed, and laughed, and was happy.
Hermione knotted her hair behind her neck, watching the bathroom door. Professor Snape was giggling on the other side.
That is the oddest thing I have ever heard. She had to cover her mouth so he wouldn't hear her laughing about it. Even as a child, he probably did not like to be laughed at.
I'm not necessarily laughing at him—it's just so cute!
Splish splash splish splish splash.
Hermione rubbed her cotton jumper over a spot on her left arm. Hearing the professor be happy was an interesting experience. Then it stopped.
All the noises stopped—the happy noises; the water noises; the rocket-ship, bubble-popping, monster noises.
Severus sucked in a breath and stopped moving.
No! his mind wailed.
Blue bubbles fizzled all over the washroom floor. While Severus stared over the rim of the tub, the bubbles turned into a wet puddle.
He clawed his way out of the bath. He ripped a towel off the shelf to soak up all the water before someone would see it. No, no, no! 'Mione could not see this—What have I done?
Everything he touched got dirty—any time he had fun he ruined it—every time he talked he said something dumb.
"Are you alright in there?" Hermione called. Severus jumped; he was so frightened by her sudden voice he slipped on his own wet feet and grabbed onto the tub before he could smash his face into the tile.
"I—I'm fine, 'Mione."
"Your clothes are on the sink."
"Okay!" He chewed on his wet fingernails, tasting chemical hints of 'Mione's honey shampoo.
Water soaked into the towel making a soggy mountain on the floor. Was she going to get mad? She was going to get mad. She was going to get so mad. Wha' should I do? No, no, why did this happen?
Wet hair sprawled wetly against his forehead and the back of his neck. Water stained his grey shirt as he pulled it over his head. Then the collar wouldn't stay on his shoulder right.
He paced a half-circle around the soppy white towel. Steam stopped curling from the tub. Wha' do I do? For five minutes he repeated the question in his head, repeated his crescent pace.
Two quiet taps on the door distracted him. "Sev?" 'Mione asked, hesitant. "Are you nearly ready for bed?"
"Y-yes." Sevvie opened the door, but just a little bit—not even enough for 'Mione to see his whole face.
"What's wrong?" She nudged the door open a bit more.
"I…" He twisted the hem of his t-shirt between his hands. "Water got on the f-floor. I…I'm sorry." He ducked his head and closed his eyes. He whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Oh."
Severus cringed away.
"Did you clean it up?"
"I tried." If he leaned any further away, he would fall back on his bum.
"Alright, good. Come to bed, and bring me the brush before your hair turns into a mess."
Severus's eyes crashed open; 'Mione was already walking away. 'Mione wasn't going to punish him for being so careless? Was this a trick? It must be.
The little boy darted to the sink and grabbed 'Mione's hairbrush for her. Looking at the hunk of plastic in his hand, he hesitated. His tummy felt rumbly. Why did he have to spill the water?
Hermione crawled to her side of the bed. She looked confused when she saw Severus still in the washroom. "Well, come on then."
Severus took a few steps closer—still out of 'Mione's grabbing range. "Y-you're not…angry wit' me?"
"Of course not; it's just water. It was very responsible of you to tell me."
Now he was next to the bed, clutching the hairbrush to his collarbones.
"Ready for bed?"
Severus nodded. The little boy let Hermione pull him into her lap. She was warm and the air was cold against his wet hair. Tingles swept up and down his neck as she brushed out the soggy tangles.
.
Hermione smiled when Severus relaxed his posture, crumpling in her lap. He was so stiff and reserved all the time. He avoided Madam Hooch as much as possible, and tried not to stay too close to Neville or Ron. He looked sad whenever Professor Sprout ran away from him and he could barely speak to Professor Vector without the girl stuttering. Hermione could tell he was lonely.
For the hundredth time, as Hermione wondered if he had been lonely she told herself: I will not intrude on Professor Snape's personal life. But they needed to talk about something. "Severus, what holiday is your favorite?"
The boy's jaw opened and shut with a clicking noise.
Little Sevvie couldn't lie very well. He said, "I like Chris'mas." He gave a little shrug.
"Really?"
Sev put his hands between his knobby knees. The bristles made a rippling sound through his hair as he dithered. "Can I tell you somet'ing?"
Hermione could see the end of his long nose and brushed the hair above his ear. "Of course."
"You won' tell nobody?"
"I promise." I said I wouldn't pry! Now he's telling some sort of secret! Merlin, what do I do?
"The others will think I'm odd if you tell them."
"I'm not going to tell anybody." Hermione had never had a conversation so close to Sevvie or Professor Snape before. Now he was sitting on her lap, wearing a too-large shirt and no socks.
"I don' really like any holiday. Not even Christmas."
"Why not?" What kind of kid didn't like Christmas?
"Da gets days off on holidays," Severus whispered. "He's not…coming…is he?"
Hermione shook her head, unable to speak.
"Is Mum coming?" That face, with a long nose and unhappy black eyes, turned towards her. His pale feet swung above the floor.
She cleared her throat. "No, I'm afraid you're stuck with just me this Christmas."
Severus didn't look disappointed—but he didn't look happy. His face didn't change—it stayed blank. He turned back to the front.
Hermione resumed the grooming. "I like Christmas Eve," she offered.
"Why?"
Family, she thought. "The excitement and mystery." She swallowed, flustered by her dry tongue. "The next day is Christmas, and you can spend all night thinking up all the wonderful gifts you'll get. That's half the fun of Christmas."
"Mysteries are fun?"
"Mmhmn."
"I though' you liked knowing stuff."
"I do," she laughed. "But it's also fun to find stuff out, don't you think?"
"I guess so."
Hermione kept brushing, even though all the tangles were long gone.
Over and over again, the bristles niggled against Severus's scalp, slid between each strand of hair. 'Mione began to hum Christmas songs. The furnace pushed heat across the room. Warm air caressed Severus's smiling face and his wiggling toes.
"Maybe I'll like this Christmas, if there's mysteries," he said.
"Maybe," Hermione murmured, hoping the same thing.
