Hermione stood in the corner and stared into nothingness. She couldn't think. She couldn't speak. She couldn't laugh. She couldn't cry. She could barely even breathe. She blinked once but her eyes stayed unfocused. Her arms hung limply at her sides and her shoulders slumped. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, never wanting to open them again. Losing Fred had been hard. But losing Fred was nothing like losing her parents, especially when they hadn't really gone anywhere.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said quietly.
To Hermione, it was as if the words came from far off and had to travel through a thick substance like honey before they finally reached her ears. She opened her eyes and slowly looked up at the headmistress. Her eyes flashed inquiry, but only for a moment before she was nothing but a blank stare once more.
"I'm terribly sorry," the headmistress said softly.
Hermione nodded once, twice, three times, and then she was shaking uncontrollably, her body racked with silent sobs and sorrow. Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked up at the older woman through a blur. Then McGonagall did something Hermione had never seen coming; she stepped forward and put her arms around the girl who had once been her student and pulled her into a motherly hug. Then the tears came. Then the sobs were no longer silent. Then the trembling and the shaking that was her anguish came without a fight. She gave up. Leaning limply against the headmistress and burying her face in the shoulder of the kind lady who was offering comfort the only way that she could.
At last, and after much time elapsed, Hermione got ahold of herself. She stopped crying and wiped her eyes with shaky hands, looking up once again at the older witch. She managed a small, sorrowful smile. "Thank you," she said when the professor handed her a handkerchief from her own beaded bag. She finally turned to face the two beds nearest the magical window in the wall. Her parents were lying there, watching her curiously. Her mother tilted her head to one side and then smiled at her as a child smiles in wonder at a butterfly. Her father's eyes wandered to the glowing orbs on the ceiling and he stared, transfixed.
McGonagall sat down in a chair near Mrs. Granger's bed and smiled kindly at the innocent expression on the poor woman's face. Hermione looked to her and opened her mouth to speak but stopped and turned around when a familiar voice said, "Hermione?"
Neville Longbottom was standing in the doorway of the same ward. It was the wing of the hospital dedicated to housing those whose minds had been reduced to those of children, to those who would never recover. Hermione had forgotten that Neville's parents were there. Looking directly across from her parents' beds, she saw Gilderoy Lockhart napping in his own bed. "Hi, Neville," she said. She had tried to sound friendly but her voice cracked and she sounded more exhausted and anguished than even after the battle at Hogwarts when the war was ended.
He walked up and turned, noticing Professor McGonagall with surprise on his face and then looking at her parents, who grinned at him. Hermione's mum bit her lip and smiled widely, showing only her top teeth. Neville's mouth opened slightly. He was obviously shocked. He turned to Hermione, a kind, concerned expression on his face. "What happened?" he whispered.
That was all it took and Hermione was a mess again. She burst into tears and was even more shocked by Neville's actions than she had been by McGonagall's; he walked right up and pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly and letting her soak his jumper with tears. He whispered kind, calming things in her ear until she calmed down again and then he took out his own handkerchief and wiped her tears away. He led her over to her mum's bed and sat her down before sitting directly across from her on the edge of her dad's. He looked at her imploringly, and she finally found her voice.
"You know that I- I changed their memories so they would leave and go to Australia to be safe," she said. He nodded; she had told him.
She swallowed and went on, "I thought that since they didn't remember me and they were so far away that they would be fine," upon the last word her voice cracked and she blinked away more tears. "When we got there to restore their memories they weren't there. We asked the neighbors and found out that one was a witch. The death eaters came to the house and when they realized that my parents couldn't give them any information, they thought it would be nice to finish the job I had only partially done." She looked up at Neville, blinking rapidly and hugging herself tightly as if it would help her be rid of the tears. "They erased their memories completely. They're like babies. They don't remember each other, or that magic is real, or the life they used to have here in England, or anything from Australia. They don't even remember me." her voice cracked again at the last sentence and she paused, a few tears trickling down her cheeks in silence before she wiped them away.
Neville waited, letting her have time; this was hard and he knew it. But he had grown up with parents who didn't know who he was. He had lived with his Gran his whole life and never realized that it was strange not to have a mother and a father until he had made friends and begun to wonder where his parents were. Finding out wasn't really all that bad because he'd never had them before then. But Hermione's parents had raised her, had made sacrifices for her, had loved her, and had known her. And now all of that was gone. Neville had been denied something. Hermione had been given it and then it was taken away. But still she felt that he was the only person who could truly understand because he'd been through somewhat of the same thing.
"They put the dark mark over the house and the witch next-door was afraid they'd killed my mum or dad . . . or both. She ran over and was at first relieved to find them alive. But then she realized that something was wrong. She had taken them into her own house and been taking care of them, knowing they were British and hoping someone from here would come and look for them and find them there." She sighed deeply. "And we did."
Neville nodded, tears forming in his own eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
She nodded and her lips parted in a small but sincere smile as she looked at him. "I still remember the day we were in here with Lockhart and you came in with your Gran." She half expected his face to color at the memory but it didn't. He just nodded and waited for her to continue. "I was so surprised; I'd never given much thought to why you lived with your Gran and not your parents." She smiled at him again, this time wider. "I never thought you were a squib, even when you needed my help in potions or in charms. But that never mattered, because through the years you've proven to be braver then I ever expected, and in the last two years you've become a friend to Harry and Ron and me. If you hadn't killed Nagini then Harry wouldn't have been able to finish off Voldemort. You saved us, Neville. Do you know that?"
He just smiled back and didn't say anything. He didn't have to; they spoke with their eyes, thanking each other and agreeing to try to build on their friendship because they needed each other. They smiled at each other and then both faces bore expressions of sorrow mixed with the courage needed to face the coming days.
Hermione was remembering her talk with Neville in the hospital as she raised her wand. "Reparo," she said, and the glass that was lying shattered on the floor lifted itself and became one whole piece again, fitting into the window and looking as if war had never touched it. Some of the damage was easy to undo, like the broken windows or damaged furniture. Other things, like the great wood supports in the ceiling and walls, needed more complicated magic to fix. She pointed her wand to the gaping hole in the side of Gryffindor Tower and muttered the words to the proper spell, and the stone from the outside of the castle returned to its place and the gap in the wall was sealed.
Hermione had been back at Hogwarts for a week since she'd gone and found her parents. Two weeks since the war ended. Strange, she thought, how it felt like years ago that Voldemort had drawn his last breath, and at the same time the grief he had wrought was still strong in her chest. She had returned to Hogwarts with Professor McGonagall and written a letter to Harry and Ron explaining about her parents. They hadn't even written back but had showed up the following evening, and they had found her locked in her room, curled up in bed and never wanting to go out again. But they brought Neville and Luna with them and between the four of her friends Hermione was brought back to her normal self.
Even now it was hard. She had come around at Luna's kind remark about the color of the room and how potent a nargle-repellant the golden light from the fire and the orbs was. Hermione herself had barely held back a laugh when Luna went on to explore the bathroom and commented on how the color of Hermione's wardrobe, contrasting with the color of the bathroom sink, was almost the same color of the rump of a crumple-horned-snortkack. Harry was the most used to Luna's remarks, but he had to bit his lips to keep from laughing. Ron turned bright red and rocked back and forth, tears of silent mirth running down his face. Neville had just looked at Luna with an almost awed expression on his face.
When Hermione turned away from Luna as the strange girl walked back into the bedroom from the bathroom, she noticed Ron, who was still trying so hard not to laugh that he was bright red, shaking uncontrollably, and crying like a baby. She couldn't help but laugh when she saw his face, and when everyone else looked they laughed too. Luna looked concerned. "Do you think you have a virus?" she asked. "You haven't drunk any doxy-egg solution lately, have you?"
Ron stared at her disbelievingly for a moment and then roared with laughter. By the time her friends had left, Hermione was able to smile again. It was still going to take some time getting used to, but having to deal with her parents' absence over the past year had prepared her for what was happening now.
Pulled back to the present by a noise, Hermione looked around the Gryffindor common room for the source of the sound. She ran to the window when a young snowy white owl tapped on the glass once more. Opening it, she let the bird inside and untied the piece of parchment from its leg. It was only a small scrap with excited, messy words scrawled haphazardly across it.
'Mione,
Going to Bulgaria.
Think they've located
Rookwood.
Hermione stared at the paper. Rookwood was the death eater who had caused the explosion that killed Fred. No wonder Ron had written so hastily; he couldn't wait to get his revenge. Harry must have lent Ron his owl. Hermione looked up at the bird. Harry had named her Hedwig, after his first owl, who had been killed while he was being moved from his muggle home to the Burrow. This new Hedwig was younger and not as experienced, but she was affectionate and loyal to Harry just as the first Hedwig had been. Hagrid had bought her for him and sent her to the Burrow after the war was over as a gift. Hermione scribbled two words on the back of Ron's note: good luck, and tied it to Hedwig's leg. Then she watched the beautiful white owl soar away through the sky. She closed the window against the frigid air outside and went back to repairing the common room.
When it was fully restored to its former self, she walked up to the boys' dormitories and fixed them as well. Then she marched into her own old dormitory and began working there. She automatically turned to face her old bed out of habit and smiled at the wave of happy memories that came with the sight of the four-poster near the window.
They were eating dinner that night when a strange owl flew in and landed on the table in front of Hermione. It held out its leg and as soon as the parchment attached to it was free, it took off and left the castle. Curious, Hermione opened it. Talk at the table had ceased and everyone watched her face for a clue as to what the letter said. She unrolled the parchment and found thin, slanted writing not unlike Dumbledore's had been. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read.
Ms. Granger,
We would like to inform you that Severus Snape regained consciousness today and has been awake since. He is still too weak to travel on his own and we ask that you come and retrieve him. It would be ideal for you to do so relatively soon.
-Saint Mungo's Hospital for magical maladies and injuries
Hermione looked up at McGonagall, who seemed to have guessed what the letter said. "How did they know to contact me?" Hermione asked, looking back down at the parchment and then back to the headmistress.
"I informed them that you would be the care-giver in this situation. Therefore all contact about the professor's health with Saint Mungo's will go through you." She said.
Everyone went back to eating and talking. Hermione reread the letter, smiling at the last part. Snape regained consciousness today and has been awake since. It would be ideal for you to retrieve him relatively soon. He's giving them hell about keeping him in bed and indoors and forcing him to stay in the hospital, she thought. She could apparated after dinner and go straight to Saint Mungo's, and they would make it back before it was too late and he could get settled in. She suppressed a laugh at the thought of "Retrieving" Professor Snape. Something told her that he wouldn't much like being retrieved.
After the meal the Ministry witches and Wizards left the hall and Hagrid followed them out. Flitwick stood on his chair when McGonagall rose from hers, and even standing on the chair he only reached her shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to decide against it, and closed his mouth again with a frown, hopping down from his chair and walking out of the hall as well. Hermione stood and looked to the headmistress, who nodded towards the door and began walking. The two witches walked side by side and the professor turned in the entrance hall towards the door and not the way that would take them to the teachers' lounge. "I will escort you out of the grounds," she said. I will be in my office if you have need of me once you have returned with Professor Snape."
Hermione nodded. They walked in silence until they were out of the protective boundaries. Then McGonagall nodded to Hermione and the younger witch turned on the spot, being pulled into the crushing darkness before opening her eyes and standing alone in front of the entrance to Saint Mungo's. Unsure of whether or not they had moved Snape to a different room, she went to the front desk and stood in line behind several people. The man in line directly in front of her had ears which kept morphing into large, fuzzy purple wings and whenever they did he would grab them and hold them closed. One time he failed to do this, resulting in their opening and flapping wildly, and he was dragged on his heels quite a distance across the floor before rising off the ground until his feet were dangling in the air at the same height as Hermione's head.
Hermione stared at him, openmouthed, and watched in amazement as one of the hospital's healers ran over and pointed their wand at the man. "Petrificus Totallus," he said, and the man's arms and legs, which he had been waving wildly at the wings, straightened and he froze. The wings kept flapping however, and seemed to find it easier to fly when the man wasn't struggling; he rose another meter. Yelping in surprise that the spell hadn't worked on the wings, the healer watched with Hermione as the wings morphed slowly back into ears, flapping until they were flesh and not fuzz. As expected, the man fell from the air as soon as the ears were back and the wings had vanished, and the healer had just enough time to mutter an almost indiscernible charm that stopped him from hitting the ground. He released the petrified man from the spell and kept a hand clamped on his arm as he led him back to the line. The next time the ears changed to wings the weight of the healer as well as the man kept them both safely on the ground.
When the healer had walked away, still holding on to the man with morphing ears, Hermione stepped up to the desk and the witch looked up from a parchment she was writing on. "You look fine to me," she said, looking her up and down.
"Oh," Hermione said, surprised to have been mistaken for someone who had come to be a patient. "Oh no," she blushed, "I'm here to, ah, take Profess—I mean Severus—Snape."
"Ah yes," the witch said, now eyeing Hermione strangely, "He's on the fourth floor in the east wing. I'm sure they'll be quite . . . relieved . . . that you've come to get him."
Dread welled up inside Hermione as she made her way to the proper floor. As soon as she entered the east wing she knew she didn't need to ask which room Snape was in. She was already apprehensive about what he would think of her being his caretaker when it got much worse; two healers, one white in the face and the other crying, clutching her companion's arm, hurried from an open door on the left side of the hall. There was muffled conversation coming through the door and then a burst of shouts that Hermione couldn't make out, followed by a young man who was obviously a healer running from the room with shouts trailing after him. A tray of food flew out the door and the food went everywhere, causing a large mess and stopping a group of visitors in their tracks, a loaf of bread narrowly missing the head of one of them.
Hermione had never known Snape to lose his temper so much that he threw things, but she supposed that it could be expected. Walking resolutely towards the door, she stopped and pulled out her wand, pointing it at the mess and saying, "Evanesco." It vanished and the scared visitors proceeded hurriedly past the still-open door. Stealing herself and holding her wand at the ready to defend herself should there be more things around the bed that Snape could get his hands on, she walked into a room. There were two beds, both occupied. The one farthest from the door held a man who looked scared half to death and who was cowering beneath the sheets on his bed, staring wide-eyed at his roommate and seemingly afraid to tear his gaze away.
In the bed closest to the door was Snape. He sat upright, propped up against pillows, and was glaring at the poor man in the bed near the window. The man now looked like he was about to faint. Hermione stepped up to Snape's bed and looked down at the back of his head. His thick black hair hung to his shoulders still, though it looked a bit less greasy and Hermione wondered if the healers had used some spell to incapacitate him long enough to wash it. Trying to shove the thought of touching his disgusting hair away from her mind, she cleared her throat to catch his attention. It worked. He whirled around and practically lunged at her. But she was faster and her wand was at his throat in a second. "Healers aren't supposed to draw their wands on patients, especially in a threatening manner," he said through clenched teeth.
Hermione realized that her hair had fallen over her face and he had mistaken her for a hospital worker. Tossing her head to get hair to fall over her back and so that she could see, she watched as his face changed from anger to surprise, which then changed from bewilderment to annoyance. "They sent you to bring me back?" he asked, his voice filled with contempt.
"No one sent me," Hermione said, her voice steadier than she felt, "I was sent a letter informing me that you were able to leave."
"Sent a letter," he repeated, staring at the wall for a moment. Then his eyes flashed back to her face and he yelled, "You?!" And he growled, glaring at her with the most malicious look she'd ever seen on his face.
She stared right back into his eyes, and for a moment flashed back to the shrieking shack when she'd found that he was alive. Looking away for a moment, she muttered, "Well it wasn't my idea," quietly, but he heard her even though she hadn't meant for him to. He said nothing to this. She looked back at him then and held her ground, asking as politely as she could, "Well, shall we go then?"
He seemed to deflate a little and stopped glaring at her, averting his gaze. She realized he was panting slightly. "Sir?" she asked, concerned. He was still not fully recovered, she had to remind herself, and throwing trays of food and yelling at hospital staff must take a lot of his energy.
He let his breath out in a puff of air and swung his legs over the side of the bed, looking pleased to be leaving. He stood and Hermione stayed where she was. She put her wand away and waited, ready to reach out and help him as he swayed slightly on his feet. He walked to the door and she followed, hovering nearby and watching to be sure he was alright. Twice he stumbled but caught himself before she reached him and she had withdrawn her outstretched hands, not wanting to touch him if at all possible and knowing he felt the same way.
They made it out onto the muggle street and Hermione turned to Snape, who had stiffened suddenly. She guessed that it was the knowledge that she would have to touch him for them to disapparate. He stood, waiting, and she reached out a hesitant hand and grabbed his arm lightly. Then she turned and they disapparated. They walked into the castle, Snape making cruel remarks about the work that had been done so far and asking which area Hermione had worked on, just, she knew, so that he could point out or make up flaws in her work. But Gryffindor tower looked fine from the ground and it was dark enough that they couldn't see much of the castle anyways, and he was unable to comment.
They walked to the teachers' lounge and entered, finding it empty. Glancing around the room, Snape looked at each of the doors before walking towards the one with the doe on it. Hermione had guessed it was his because Harry had said that Snape's patronus was a doe. She followed him to the door and he turned to glare at her. "I can undress myself and get into bed, thank you very much," he said coldly.
Hermione nodded. She hadn't expected to have to help him do either of those things. The door was still open and she pointed to her own door, next to the fireplace and carved with an otter. "I'll be in my rooms. Can you conjure a patronus?"
He narrowed his eyes and nodded to answer her question, but his gaze hadn't left her door.
"A- alright," she said haltingly, noticing that he was still staring at the door and feeling almost as unnerved as if he'd been staring at her face with such intensity. "Send one if you need me. I'll be back here half an hour before breakfast to wake you."
And she turned, intending to walk to her rooms, but was stopped when he sneered, "Is McGonagall counting you as a staff member because you're my nurse?"
"No," Hermione said, her voice steady and authoritive as it had been back in the hospital. "Actually, I'm here to help restore Hogwarts and helping you is only a side job." She refused to say that she was nursing him back to health. It just sounded too strange.
He grunted and made to close the door in her face, but just then the headmistress walked into the teachers' lounge and he stopped. "Ah, Severus," she said with a smile, "I trust you made it back alright? How do you feel?"
He nodded, still scowling, and looked at Hermione. "I'll finally have a room to myself and no more healers poking and prodding me and bothering me to inquire about my health, thank you."
He fell silent and Hermione turned to the headmistress. "I have thought over it for some time," the older witch said, "and I have decided for sure what I will do this fall. Congratulations, Professor Granger."
Hermione glanced from the headmistress to the potions master. McGonagall looked happy enough to grab Hermione's hands and start spinning around in circles and dancing like a child. Snape's jaw had dropped and for the first time in her life Hermione saw him looking completely shocked and utterly speechless. She continued to look between the two, not sure what she felt at being called Professor by the headmistress of Hogwarts School. Then she turned to the witch. "Thank you, professor," she breathed, now happy as the headmistress was.
She glanced back at Snape and saw that his shocked expression had changed to one of utter contempt and he was glaring at her. This didn't seem to faze the headmistress at all, as she looked directly at Snape and said, "Well, Severus, now you've met the new Transfiguration teacher!"
He shot Hermione one last, especially hateful scowl and slammed the door. She hadn't realized it, but as soon as he was gone she felt free to smile and allow a girlish giggle to escape her lips. McGonagall was still smiling, beaming at her, and she looked just as happy and excited as Hermione was. Feeling a surge of affection for the headmistress, Hermione actually ran to the older witch and hugged her. She jumped back quickly, realizing what she had done and blushing. What was she thinking?! She was going to ruin her future and lose her job before it had even begun!
But when she looked up shyly at the older woman she found that the headmistress' eyes twinkled kindly down at her in a very motherly way. "Thank you," Hermione said again, though this time it was a whisper. The old woman nodded and they parted ways without another word, each entering her own rooms. Hermione sat down at her desk straight away and began writing to Harry and Ron about the day's events. She wrote an extra note that would be read as an addition to her reply to Ron and rolled up the parchment, sealing it and setting it on the desk to send the following morning.
When she was done with the letter she walked to the wall of books and selected one on advanced transfiguration. Then she sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace and read for the next thirty minutes, making mental notes about where she would start with her lessons in the fall. When she was done reading she returned the book to its shelf and went to her bedroom to change into her pajamas. She went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair and glanced longingly at the bathtub but remembered the time and promised herself that she would rise early so she could enjoy a hot bath in the morning.
She waved her wand lazily at the orbs on the ceiling and they all went out, leaving the room in semidarkness, lit only by the dying remains of the fire. Hermione set her wand on the desk as she always did, climbed into bed, and pulled the curtains closed before relaxing and laying her head on the pillow with a sigh of contentment.
She rose early the next morning as she'd wanted to and had just dressed after a long, hot bath. Then she brushed her wet hair and pulled it back into a messy bun, planning on doing it and her makeup later; she still had an hour before she needed to go and wake Snape. She walked out and took her wand from her desk, tucking it in her robes as she always did and hiding the beaded bag away as well. Walking over to the fire, she sat down on the couch and curled up, pulling her knees up to her chest and watching the flames leaping over the firewood.
Crookshanks meowed and jumped onto the couch, walking over and curling up beside her. She turned and looked at him, smiling down at him and stroking his fur. The house elves had been very generous with his food, and while he wasn't getting plump his coat showed the extra attention. Hermione had the secret suspicion that Kreacher himself was fond of the cat and that he paid the orange tabby some kind of attention that the others denied him. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, thinking of how different Kreacher was since Harry had inherited him and started to show a bit of kindness to him. The cat jumped up suddenly and streaked under the bed, and she opened her eyes and looked around. A silver, wispy doe bounded around the room and then stood in front of the couch.
Hermione stared at it blankly for a moment, wondering where it came from and thinking of how beautiful it was before she remembered what she'd told Snape the night before. She jumped up and ran to the door, bursting into the empty teachers' lounge and hurrying across the room to Snape's door. She pulled out her wand, pointed it to the door, and said quickly, "Alohomora!"
The door now unlocked, Hermione wrenched it open and stepped into Snape's rooms. They were arranged just like hers, only with a mirror effect; she walked into her study and turned left to step up into the bedroom and he walked into his study and had to turn right. She searched the study and found it empty, so she entered the bedroom, which was shielded from the study much as hers was. No one was in the bed or the bedroom. Fear and a bit of dread filling her, she turned to face the bathroom door, which was closed. She walked up to it quickly, though was suddenly unsure of herself. Had she really seen a patronus or was it all in her head? Should she really break into the bathroom? What would she find there? If she had imagined it all she didn't want to think about how furious Snape would be at her entrance. He was in the loo! As if bursting into his personal quarters wasn't enough, she had to burst into the loo.
Feeling panicky, she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. "P- Professor?" she asked timidly before opening it. "Professor?" she asked, louder this time. There was no answer. Then the familiar voice of the potions master came through the door. "Yes."
Hermione didn't know what to say. Had she been wrong? Had he been fine and not needed help? What would he think of her if she was wrong? But she didn't have to say anything because he snarled, "Well, what are you waiting for, get in here! You did say to send a patronus if I needed you."
Lost for words and caught completely off guard, Hermione had to take a moment to get a grip. Taking a deep breath and shaking her head at the sheer strangeness of the situation, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
His bathroom was exactly like hers, with the bathtub farthest from the door. Snape's back was to her, and Hermione was thankful, knowing that her face had colored and she was probably very, very red at the moment. Before she could take a step towards the man—who was in the bathtub with his back to her—though, he asked, "Did you close the doors on your way in?"
"N- no," Hermione stammered, surprised by the question.
"I would prefer it if you did close them," he said. She turned, still extremely red in the face, and hurried back to the door that led to the still-empty teachers' lounge, closing it and returning to the bathroom, where she closed the door as well. Then she turned back to the professor. Only his torso was visible above the water and she found herself very thankful that she couldn't see the rest of him. His broad back was just as pale as his face and she realized that he was shaking, probably in fury either at her or because he needed help. It appeared to be the latter, because his voice gave away that he was struggling not to yell as he said, "It appears that I cannot lift myself from the bathtub."
Hermione felt her face redden further and said, "Oh," because she had no idea what else she could have said in this bizarre situation.
Pointing her wand to the towels folded on a rack on the wall, she said, "Accio towel," and one flew through the air and into her hand. Not really knowing what she should do next but desperate to be doing something other than standing there thinking about it, she asked, "Professor, does the charm wingardium leviosa work on people?"
"I believe so, if the caster is adept enough at performing magic." He answered brusquely.
She nodded though he couldn't see her and walked up behind him, saying, "Here," and setting the towel on the edge of the bathtub. He grabbed it and held it above the water in front of him. "I'm- I'm going to levitate you and you can . . . wrap yourself with the towel, and . . . yeah." She had never been so flustered in her life.
She pointed her wand at the professor's back and said, "Wingardium leviosa," and slowly but surely, he rose from the water. Hermione averted her eyes as soon as she knew that the charm was working and waited until a flash of dark green-the color of the towel—in the corner of her eye told her that Snape was covered. She looked back at him and moved her wand slowly, and he floated over above the bathroom floor. Hermione handed him another towel and put her wand back in her robes.
She tried in vain to focus on Snape's face, for his pale skin seemed to shine in the light from the orbs on the ceiling and she found upon just a quick, secret glance that he was actually in very good shape for a thirty-seven year-old who had just basically been killed and then come back to life again and who wasn't yet fully recovered. Averting her eyes from him completely, she said, "Sir, did you need me to help you with anything else, or . . ."
"Out," he said coldly and without the slightest trace of gratitude in his voice. She nodded without looking at him and turned on her heel, hurrying out the door and into his bedroom and then out into the teacher's lounge. She closed his door carefully behind her and heard the lock click almost immediately; he had waited for her to exit and then hurried to lock himself in again.
Hermione stared at the doe on the door for a moment before hurrying back into her own room. There was only half an hour until breakfast so she went straight to her bathroom to get herself cleaned up. Looking in the mirror, she was met with the face of a distraught image of herself. Her cheeks were blotchy red and white, as if they couldn't decide whether to be red and embarrassed or white and shocked. Her bangs had come loose out of the messy bun and hung, still wet, around her face. Her lips were white, as if from strain, and her robes were askew from her wild run to Snape's rooms after she'd seen the patronus.
Straightening her robes, she brushed her hair again and tied it up in a firmer bun, using hair pins to prevent it from coming loose again. It took a bit longer to do her makeup by hand and without magic, but she didn't mind. Anything to keep her mind off of what had just happened was welcome. When she had finished getting ready, she remembered the letter for Harry and Ron and glanced at the clock on the wall. She had just enough time to go to the owlery and then come back to escort Snape to the Great Hall for breakfast. Picking up the letter, she looked down at the wax seal and promised herself she would never speak to anyone about helping Snape that morning.
She walked out the door, thinking of how awkward it would be to see Snape again.
Hello again, and thanks for sticking with my story so far! I hope you're enjoying reading it. If you have a spare moment, I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter! I'm so thankful to all of you who have read/reviewed/favorited/followed so far; it means so much to me! Much love. ~Taelr