Author's Note

I finally have a beta to catch my spelling and/or grammar errors. She really helped me get this chapter where I wanted it. Thank you, hpfanfictionreader! You're wonderful :)

Snape is finally back, and here to stay! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 10: Sanctuary

A second spray of crimson whipped across her face as Ron slumped, rolling to his side.

Hermione crawled forward, pressing her hands against the wound on Ron's upper arm. Except it was too big. Nearly his entire bicep was missing, and her hands sank into the gory tissue, squishing and creating a fresh geyser of blood from the damaged area. It oozed through her fingers, coating her hands and making them slip off. She couldn't even see the extent of the injury through the macabre and copious amount of red drenching his arm.

"Hermione, his arm…."

"I know, okay!" Hermione snapped, panic scrambling her thoughts like so many broken eggs. Moaning, she repeated, "I know."

"What can I do?" Harry demanded, kneeling beside her, the calm eye of her turbulent emotional hurricane.

Hermione seized onto his soothing surety, needing the level headedness to help her think. It reminded her of Snape and the stability his presence always brought to a crisis. What would he do in this situation? Given his years of experience with students, he probably knew precisely what Ron needed. Too bad he wasn't here.

What she wouldn't give to have him here now. But that was impossible for a number of reasons.

If only she could go to him. If only she could sort a way to convince Harry. If only….

There had to be a way. He could fix this. But first, she had to keep Ron alive long enough to get the help she so desperately needed. Only one way came to mind, but it wasn't going to be pretty.

"In my bag… find the wooden box of potions and ingredients. There should be one labelled Essence of Dittany," Hermione instructed, pointing her chin to the coat pocket she wore for Harry to access the small beaded bag she'd stuffed inside when changing into Mafalda's clothes before entering the Ministry.

Hopefully, he'd not recognize Snape's handwriting on the bottle he'd labelled. Hermione pressed harder, conjuring a cloth and covering the obscene, gaping hole spanning the entirety of Ron's upper arm.

"Quickly, Harry," she yelled, her whole body quaking as she replaced the sodden cloth with a new one.

Almost instantly it was soaked through as well. He must have severed an artery. Possibly several. If they didn't stop the flow soon, he was in serious danger of bleeding out. How much time had already passed? It felt like hours, though in reality it couldn't have even been a minute yet.

"Got it," he gasped, holding up the tiny brown bottle.

Finally.

When she made no move to take it, afraid of what she was about to do, Harry asked, "You're sure about this?"

"No. Not at all. It's so deep…," she said frankly, knowing the Dittany would do nothing more than seal the wound. And halt additional internal bleeding. The equivalent of slapping a bandaid on an amputation.

More sticky, hot fluid seeped through her trembling fingers.

"When we took our lessons, the Ministry folk used spells to set people to rights," Harry pointed out, reminding her of when Susan Bones had left her leg behind when she'd been the first to Apparate in their class. The Ministry workers had fixed her up right quick with a few simple spells.

"I don't know them," Hermione said bluntly, adding, "but he's going to bleed out if we don't try this."

"Augh," Ron moaned pitifully, his head lolling weakly.

Harry made the decision for them, unstopping the phial and starting to pour the clear contents on the grisly tissue, narrowly missing Hermione's hands as she jerked them back.

"Careful! Only a few drops," she ordered quickly, not sure what the consequences of using too much would be. She'd read about it, but with everything else going on, couldn't quite remember the specifics. The relevant passages were an incoherent jumble doing a jig in her mind.

Immediately, fresh pink skin knitted over the area, sealing what remained of the insides beneath – where they were meant to be all along. There was a massive divot where the majority of his bicep had been permanently excised. The arm wouldn't function properly anymore, but at least he was no longer in danger of dying.

"Wow," Harry said, awestruck by how quickly the wound healed.

But Hermione couldn't get past how motionless and ashen Ron was. Each laboured breath was weak and shallow. She needed to get him help, and getting to Snape was still the only reliable option she could think of.

"Ron? Ron!" Hermione called, patting his cheek, but there was no response. Not even a twitch of his eyes beneath the closed lids. Either from the blood loss or pain, he was unconscious. "Wake up, please," she urged, willing him to come through this all right. He'd helped her at the Ministry. Now it was her turn to help him.

"Should his arm look like that?" Harry asked worriedly, reaching tentatively to touch the sunken area.

"No," Hermione said flatly.

"How do we fix it?"

"I don't know how to 'fix it'. I'm not a Healer, and I probably don't have the right ingredients here even if I did."

The truth was she simply didn't know what else to do. The necessary healing spells weren't part of the Hogwarts curriculum either, and she'd been so focused on learning defensive and concealment spells to help Harry, that she'd never considered the need to learn them. It seemed a vast oversight now.

She'd believed herself so clever, but twice in as many minutes she'd discovered she was lacking. Perhaps Snape was correct over the years when he pointed out she didn't know everything yet – his reasoning for insisting she wasn't actually brilliant to the rest of the staff, just slightly more intelligent than her dunderheaded classmates.

Again, all she could think about was seeking him out. She could really do with his help right about now. She'd even put up with the inevitable snide comments he'd make before delivering the answers she sought.

"We can't take him to St. Mungo's," Harry said forcefully, as though shocked she'd even hint at such a possibility minutes after they'd broken into and out of the Ministry, nearly getting caught in the process.

"Obviously," she snapped, huffing indignantly. But here was her chance. If she really wanted to go to Hogwarts and get Snape's help for Ron, this was her best opportunity to convince Harry. "I was thinking of Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey surely has the right potions for the sixth years on hand."

"You're nuts. Death Eaters are running Hogwarts! We can't just go traipsing through the front doors," Harry countered, frantically shaking his head. As if he wasn't the one usually coming up with insane plans and expecting the others to agree.

"I was thinking of using a secret passageway," Hermione said, a suitable plan coming together even as she spoke.

"It's too dangerous," Harry refuted stubbornly.

It stunned her that she was actually having to be the one to talk Harry into doing something rash. She'd thought a simple suggestion and a plausible chance of doing it safely would be all the convincing she'd need to do. Apparently not.

"Aren't you usually the first to go running towards danger?"

"Exactly! And look what's happened! Going to the Ministry was my idea, and now look what's happened to Ron," he hollered, tossing his arms up in the arm. Hermione inhaled sharply, surprised at his sudden outburst. "This is my fault because I couldn't come up with a better plan. I was so intent on getting the locket that I rushed us. We weren't prepared for all of the risks. Now Ron's been hurt, but if we stay out here, at least he's alive. I can't…."

"We were never going to be able to plan for every eventuality," Hermione argued, hoping to relieve some of his guilt.

"We could have prepared more," he insisted stubbornly, "I keep making the same mistakes, and look what's happened. Sirius is dead. Dumbledore is dead. Mad-Eye is dead. Now Ron's very nearly died!"

"Everyone fighting knows what's at stake and is willing to take a chance if it means putting an end to You-Know-Who."

"And that's the problem – the reason it's all on me. I can't keep rushing in blindly when others end up paying the price," Harry said, fisting his hands in his hair, a tormented look pinching his face.

"Harry, look around you! We're in the middle of a bloody forest! What's Ron supposed to do if we don't get his arm back to normal? Be a sitting duck so that next time he does die? But let's say we play it safe and leave it anyway, do you know where we should look for Horcruxes next? Do you have a plan? Because I sure as hell don't," Hermione yelled shrilly, the last of the adrenaline overdose from the last hour fueling her. It was too much. She felt strung out and desperate. Only the sight of Harry's sucker-punched expression allowed her to dial her reaction back at all as she continued. "I can't help Ron out here, and I can't help you with the Horcruxes either. I need resources, a library, books, if I'm to sort out the broken clues you've gathered."

"You think the answers are in a book?"

"It's how I solved the mystery of the Half-Blood Prince, isn't it?"

"Snape. Snape's at Hogwarts," Harry spat angrily, fuming at the reminder that the professor he loathed had replaced the headmaster after killing him.

"Yes," she squeaked, unprepared to hear him mention the wizard foremost in her mind so casually, even if she'd been the one to inadvertently bring him up, but she ploughed on anyway, "and he will be until this war ends. I can't help with anything without more information – unless you're telling me you've suddenly had an epiphany and you know healing spells in addition to what and where the other Horcruxes are?"

"I've shared all I know. You knew this wasn't going to be easy," Harry said, hurt by the implicit accusation in her words.

"Yes, I know, but again, I can't help if I don't have access to what I need. The potions for Ron are at Hogwarts. He'll be safer with his wand arm whole. Besides, you've seen what I can discover with the right information. We have to do this if we're to help you," Hermione repeated, willing him to see her point and agree with her. She couldn't stand being responsible for hurting Ron after he'd been so adamant about getting her to safety.

Moreover, she wanted Snape's help. He'd done so much for her over the summer. With his position, they could really use him. Maybe then they'd not have any more near misses and mistakes, such as they'd experienced today. Snape was an extremely valuable resource – there was a reason Dumbledore had relied on him so heavily. Hermione thought it prudent to do the same.

Ron moaned piteously, breaking the silence as Harry debated their options. Still, he didn't wake fully. Harry took in the sight of his mate's mangled arm. Without his bicep, the arm was limp and incapable of moving. Not entirely unlike Harry's had been in second year when Lockhart removed his bones.

"It's his wand arm, Harry. It's useless like this," Hermione added, knowing it was true and wondering if Harry had quite realised that even though Ron wasn't still in danger of dying, he'd not be able to keep fighting with them after this.

While a witch or wizard could use their nondominant hand, the spells would never be quite as effective. And he'd have to try to survive the war with only one arm before they could attempt to repair the damage. If they even could by that point. The longer an injury went without treatment, the less likely it was that magic could be used to fix it.

"Where would we even stay?" he asked, on the verge of relenting. He teetered on the edge. All it would take was the tiniest nudge of reassurance.

Hermione also had a feeling that Ginny was serving as a lure for him. But it'd be too obvious she was trying to manipulate him if she mentioned the redhead outright. Better to wheedle and coax instead.

"The Room of Requirement? It's hidden us before, and with only the three of us, it'll be even safer," Hermione suggested, pressing a hand to Ron's face. He was unnaturally cold, his lips utterly drained of colour. "It's a good plan, Harry. Better than being out in the open, or putting someone in the Order in danger by staying with them."

Winter was settling in, the ground beneath her still hard from the morning frost that had yet to thaw. It wasn't as though they could sleep under the stars once temperatures dropped below freezing either. Warming Charms only lasted so long, and they'd never get any sleep if they were constantly renewing them.

"They'd also ask too many questions," he mused, contemplating the idea and searching for potential holes. He seemed serious about taking fewer unnecessary risks from here on out.

"With the passageways, we can come and go freely if needed. Hogwarts can be our base while we search out potential locations for Horcruxes. Last week you even said it's possible one is at the castle. If you're right, we would have needed to go there anyway."

"I also said Dumbledore already searched the castle, and I don't really see us succeeding where he didn't, but you're right – it won't hurt to check. You're not usually the one suggesting something like this, Hermione."

That wasn't exactly true. Yes, she often cautioned restraint and not running in blind, but she'd made exceptions in the past. Punching Malfoy, leading Umbridge to the centaurs, and brewing Polyjuice all came to mind.

"I think it might actually be the safest option. The castle is a fortress. No one needs to know we're even there."

"Hmmm. Unpredictable…that's what we decided. They'd never look for me right under Snape's nose," Harry said cautiously, warming to the idea as he considered getting one over Voldemort and his Death Eaters, Snape in particular.

"Exactly," she agreed eagerly, already starting to gather up some of the items that had spilled from her magically enlarged bag when Harry was searching for the potion.

As she moved, her ankle gave a cry of protest, announcing itself with a vengeance. Apparently, she'd been distracted enough by Ron that she'd forgotten turning it. Now it was impossible to ignore. Every muscle in her petite frame tensed as she held back a pained gasp. She did not want Harry knowing she was hurt. He might use it as an excuse not to risk Hogwarts.

Focusing on breathing, a string of silent curses blasting through her mind, Hermione tried to move as little as possible to gather her belongings and checked on Ron. A little colour had returned to his cheeks, the freckles not standing out quite so starkly, but there was little improvement aside from that.

She'd just retrieved one of Ron's signature Weasley jumpers when Harry reached for something on the ground.

"What about the locket? If we're caught, I don't want this discovered," Harry said, lifting the golden chain, dark along the interlocking links, from where Hermione had dropped it to see after Ron. The opulent oval spun, catching rays of the weak light filtering through the clouds to reach them. It flashed and glinted, the faceted emeralds forming the S glowing as though alive, and twisting across the polished surface.

Harry was right. Just being near the Horcrux filled her with unease. Best to rid themselves of it as soon as possible. And once it was destroyed, they'd have one less piece of Voldemort to worry about.

"The poison is in the box you got the Essence of Dittany from," she answered, not wanting to leave Ron's side when he still looked on the verge of death. Or give away her own injury.

"Where did you get it?" Harry asked, examining the bottles to locate the correct one.

"I brewed it, clearly," she answered crisply, "using instructions from a book."

"Right," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes and mumbling something about already having agreed with her plan to access the Hogwarts library. "There are three phials labelled Horcrux Poison."

Hermione had noticed that as well when she'd been brewing the Polyjuice Potion. At first, she'd thought Snape gave her extra in case something happened to one of the phials since it wasn't exactly replaceable, but the more she'd thought about it, the more she believed Snape had already premeasured the correct dosage for her to use.

"One for each nonliving item containing a bit of his soul," Hermione explained, sharing her theory, but presenting it as fact. "It's not as though Nagini will let us feed her a poison or stay still long enough to dump it on her."

"How do we kill her then?"

"I've something in mind," Hermione said darkly, thinking of an orange flash and a forbidden spell.

She'd seen what it did to the heart when cast properly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't be equally effective in killing a snake. And would the spell really be considered Dark if it was being used to destroy a Dark Artefact? Certainly it was something to consider. Snape might have a few suggestions about that as well. Now she could ask him about it.

Part of her still couldn't believe Voldemort had turned his familiar into a Horcrux. It was a strange mix of careless and sentimental.

The point of a Horcrux was to chase immortality and cheat death. But Nagini was a living creature. Eventually she would die, and the Horcrux would perish right alongside her. And a snake, even one as unique as Nagini, was significantly easier to kill than an item was to destroy. She wouldn't have the same protections and durability that items such as the locket possessed.

Yet Voldemort had made her one anyway. Did he not care that he was essentially throwing part of his soul away when natural causes inevitably took Nagini, should they fail to deliberately disembowel her first? Hmph. Of course not. This was Voldemort, after all. His soul was so damaged already that he'd not miss a single piece of it. He was too arrogant, believing himself invincible thanks to the other Horcruxes he'd made.

Ron coughed and sputtered, moaning weakly, though he didn't truly stir. Blood loss and pain was keeping him under for now. Though, if possible, the hue he'd regained had faded, reminding her of grey ashes from a fire grate.

"Best get on with it – it'll be easier to move him while he's still unconscious," Hermione advised, unsure if Ron was doing better or worse. Probably, his body was struggling to regain its equilibrium after everything it had been through.

Harry held the potion and locket uncertainly. The golden oval spun faster as it dangled, and Harry was eyeing it suspiciously. "Do I just splash some on it?"

Hermione considered the question, not having thought about it sooner. A Horcrux stored a piece of soul inside an object. This was a locket. It literally had an inside. What if the poison didn't penetrate deep enough if they left if closed?

"You probably could do that, but I think you should open it first, just to be safe. Then use all of the potion – but be careful. If it gets on you, it will kill you too."

"Great. No pressure there," he said, giving her a disgruntled look as he set the poison down and stepped back from it. Hermione bit back a reminder that it was sealed and could do nothing to him until it was opened.

While Harry was distracted, Hermione muttered, "Episkey!" The spell did nothing. Her ankle went right on throbbing as though her heart had migrated to the site and was attempting to burst free. It must be hurt worse than she'd initially realised.

She watched him fiddle with the locket clasp as she continued repacking her bag, tossing the stray jumper and a book on Concealment Charms inside. While she packed, she retrieved a pair of trainers to replace her missing heels and his invisibility cloak, intending for them to leave as soon as they were finished, and had to resist taking the locket herself to try using magic. They were each as bad as the other at times when it came to remembering not to let habit cause them to behave like Muggles. But this was Harry's mission. This was for him to do. She and Ron were just there as backup to make sure he succeeded and didn't die along the way.

"Alohomora!" Harry finally tried, prodding the side with his wand.

Nothing happened. Of course. Voldemort would have added charms and spells to ensure only he'd have access. Something no other could do….

Except Harry.

"Er, Hermione…how do I open it?"

"It's Slytherin's locket. The snake," she said, the clues coming together quickly.

"Yeah. I know who it belonged to," he said, a line forming between his eyebrows as he stared at her in confusion.

"Parseltongue, Harry. Use Parseltongue," she said, attempting not to let sarcasm and incredulity coat the words too thickly. The answer was so obvious once she'd landed on it.

Harry blinked at her. "Oh. Right."

"Honestly, Harry," she sighed, exasperated. For someone so quick on his feet, he could be awfully thick at times. But then, neither of the boys had ever been able to track her thoughts with much success.

"Nalastalye," he hissed moments later, the sound eerie and drawn out. Shivers raced down her spine and dread was a pit in her gut, yawning wide.

The locket sprung open as though pressure loaded. Harry took one look at it and cried out, dropping it as he took a step back, tripping over Ron's feet. His arms pinwheeled, but he went down anyway, landing on his butt.

From her kneeling position, she could just make out the roving eye that had startled Harry. It frantically searched, shifting beneath the glass window, before settling on Harry just as a smoky figure emerged. It swirled upward, shaping itself into the familiar silhouette of Albus Dumbledore.

"You won't win, Harry," Dumbledore's likeness said gravely, almost pityingly.

Hermione and Harry were both too stunned to do more than watch.

"You can't. There aren't enough people left to die for you. I was just the last in a long series, but eventually you'll run out of willing sacrifices. Will it be Ron or Hermione next? Today you stood by doing nothing, safe, while your friends risked their lives. Now Ron might die. All because you don't know what you're doing," Dumbledore mocked, preying on Harry's insecurities.

Shocked at the critical and not at all accurate assessment, Hermione turned to Harry, seeing his hands sink into the grass, shifting around, though he still stared at the figure. His face had lost all colour, and Hermione knew the words had landed a direct hit. It was everything he'd just admitted to fearing, and worse, it was coming from someone Harry believed he'd let down and was responsible for getting killed.

"It's not really him," she tried, then realised Harry was already searching for the phial, but was unable to look away to hasten the process.

"What will you do after this? You don't have any ideas, and I'm not around to give you the answers. You've no hope of finishing this without me. But you let Snape kill me. Will you let him kill Ginny next?"

Hermione was horrified by the suggestion. Snape wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't hurt Ginny, but Harry must be afraid of that happening. This figment was using Harry's thoughts against him. The worst part was there was nothing Hermione could say to change his mind. Not without revealing her actions over the summer. Maybe being at Hogwarts himself would help Harry believe Snape wasn't the monster he thought.

As her mind raced, Harry rocketed forward, bear crawling to reach the locket. He slowly poured the poison, unflinching as the dark figure screamed. It writhed, seconds extending into years. Her eardrums throbbed.

Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"Harry?" Hermione ventured hesitantly, reaching for her friend.

The remains of the locket smoked. Thin tendrils twisted as they rose from the melted glass, the golden frame curled in on itself in a misshapen mess that made it resemble warm putty squeezed in someone's fist.

"We're going to Hogwarts," Harry said thickly, pain clogging his throat. He cleared it, trying to force back tears of shame over past failures and the losses he'd suffered. "We have to fix Ron's arm then find the other pieces."

Ignoring the pain radiating outward from her injury, Hermione joined Harry. She placed a hand on his shoulder, lending him strength and support. "He won't hurt Ginny," she promised.

"I know. I won't let him," he vowed, fiercely determined. "I won't let her pay for my mistakes the way the others have."

Together, they hauled Ron's unconscious form off the ground, one arm draped over each of their shoulders. Awkwardly, straining beneath the weight and balancing the best she could on one foot, Hermione tossed Harry's cloak over the trio as well.

As the light, silvery material fluttered down around them, she hesitated, terrified she'd make another mistake – one that hurt Ron even worse. Would she get another one of them Splinched?

Harry didn't say a word, nor did he prompt her, lost in his own world. He was in just as bad of a headspace as her.

"What happened to Dumbledore and the others wasn't your fault. This – Ron – wasn't your fault," Hermione said quietly, knowing Harry well enough to see the way he was heaping the blame on himself. He always took on too much responsibility. Probably a result of the way the Dursleys abused him over the years.

"The passage under Honeydukes is an easier walk with us supporting Ron," Harry said blankly. "We can levitate him through the path, and that route will put us closer to the Room of Requirement. I don't like the idea of the three of us wandering the castle for longer than necessary."

"All right, Harry," she answered, sighing. Clearly, the subject was closed for now. He'd not hear her no matter what she said. At least he still trusted her to safely Apparate them.

Safely. That word reminded her about the people they'd left behind at the Ministry. What had happened to them? Hermione swallowed, deciding against telling Harry about them, since that'd be just one more source of guilt he'd assume the mantle for.

"Let's go. We need to help Ron, remember?"

Bracing herself, Hermione turned on the spot, forcibly shutting out all thoughts beyond the alley running alongside Honeydukes.

The relief that nothing went wrong this time didn't really register until they were about two-thirds of the way through the passageway. It was tempered by the fact Ron was still unconscious. Should he be? Was something else wrong with him? Surely he should have woken by now!

They might not be on the verge of a relationship anymore, but it still tore her up to see him like this.

It also hadn't helped that she was gritting her teeth so hard they'd be ground down to nubs as she valiantly tried to ignore the throb and twinge that every jarring step sent sparking up her leg. First thing she'd do once Ron was better would be to get a book on Healing Charms.

She couldn't wait to get off her foot. They'd had to wait to enter the storeroom of the sweets shop until they had a clear path. The same thing happened when they reached the school, the halls full of students wandering around during a free period and then rushing from class. Arriving in the middle of a school day probably hadn't been the wisest decision. They hugged the walls several times and ducked behind tapestries into tiny alcoves to avoid colliding with stray students.

By the time they reached the Room of Requirement, she and Harry were both huffing and sweaty as they lowered Ron heavily onto the hospital cot the Room had provided. It was lunch time when they finally made it to their destination and were able to open the door undetected. Luck just hadn't been on their side in terms of stealth and speed. At least they'd had it when it really mattered – when they'd retrieved the locket and destroyed it.

"Stay here and look after Ron. I'll get what we need," Hermione promised, picking the cloak up from where they'd dropped it on the floor.

"Hermione," Harry protested, grabbing her arm tightly.

"It'll be easier to move around the castle if only one person is under the cloak."

"Then I'll go," Harry suggested adamantly, the Horcrux's taunt about letting others take risks for him motivating his insistence now.

"You don't know what we need. I do," she argued, hoping it wasn't a lie. She was counting on Snape to know and help. "Besides, you can't be caught here." Unsaid was the truth – she was expendable, he wasn't. Just as the locket-Dumbledore pointed out.

Not all truths were welcome. It didn't make them any less accurate.

"Fine," he relented, sagging with resignation, then adding, "be careful."

"I will. I'll be back as soon as I'm able," Hermione promised, hating the shadows haunting her friend. He didn't like letting her face danger alone for the second time that day.

In moments, she would see Snape. He'd be able to help her fix Ron up. Probably her as well. Then it'd be like this whole thing never happened.

It was much easier getting to the Head office than it had been getting Ron to the Room of Requirement. But when she arrived, it occurred to her that she didn't have the password.

"Er, I need to see Professor Snape," she tried, wondering if it mattered that the pair of gargoyles guarding the entrance couldn't see her as she addressed them. As far as she knew, they were only voice activated, so it shouldn't matter. Nothing happened. "Please. He's helped me before on Professor Dumbledore's—"

They sprung apart at the last word. Was Dumbledore the password, or was it because she was asking for help? Harry had once mentioned that help at Hogwarts would always be given to those who asked for it. Regardless, she hurried up the spiral staircase, not because she expected him to be there since she assumed he was eating with the rest of the inhabitants, but because she didn't want to get caught. Taking a seat wouldn't be amiss either.

Her breath caught in her throat when she opened the office door. He was there after all. His presence filled the room. Her heart sped at the reassuring sight. Or was it shock from recent events? She could feel it settling in as her careful composure crumbled.

Snape stood abruptly when his door opened, eyes darting around the room, scanning for an intruder. Hermione waited until the door was shut firmly behind her before tugging off the cloak.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, staring incredulously at her bedraggled self.

Hermione was uncomfortably aware of what a grim sight she must be. The filthy, oversized clothes, the messy, sweaty hair. It all contributed to an unwelcome and alarming surprise.

A low din of twitters and frantic murmuring hummed in the background as her arrival stirred up the portraits, but Hermione largely ignored them. Snape did too, striding out from behind the massive oak desk. Being gossiped about was the least of her current worries.

"Ron's hurt. I messed up. We didn't know where else to go," she rambled, walking stiffly forward. Now that she was here, more aches and pains from running and heaving Ron around were catching up to her. It felt as though her muscles had been put through the wash on a spin cycle with a pair of shoes. Her turned ankle screamed with every step she took.

"You brought Potter here?" he asked darkly. At her grimace, he groaned loudly. "I'm going to turn you over myself for being so foolish."

"I don't believe you," she countered.

"When do you ever?"

It startled her that he would actually acknowledge that she was correct in reading him. But now wasn't the time to analyse his retort or get distracted. She was here for a reason.

"I know you said not to count on you for help, but I need you. Please. Ron was Splinched…his arm…the muscle is gone," she informed him clinically, sticking to the facts. It was easier to stave off the tears if she remained objective and emotionally distant. But she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to do that. They were closing in on her fast. "He's not woken since either."

Hermione looked away, ashamed by her mistake. Everyone always expected her to get everything right. It was her own fault. She'd made blatantly sure she did for years, then rubbed it in everyone's face, desperate to prove herself worthy – despite being a Muggleborn.

She was slightly arrogant as a result, usually deservedly so. Except this proved she was just as fallible as the rest.

Ducking her head further, she caught sight of her borrowed clothes. Immediately, her hands came up to touch the bloodstains, only to discover her hands were even worse. They appeared to be sculpted from iron left too long exposed to the elements, until they were completely rusted over. How had she not noticed sooner?

It felt as though the floor dropped out beneath her. Everything from the last few hours hit her all at once with the strength of a wrecking ball. The Muggleborns at the Ministry. Running for their lives. Ron nearly dying. Destroying a Horcrux. Returning to Hogwarts. And now seeing so much of Ron's blood, because he was still hurt, because she didn't have the right answers.

Tremors rocked her. It was too much.

Desperately, she tried to wipe her hands off, roughly running them over her middle. The need to rid herself of the evidence of Ron's injury drove her, making her wipe them harder and faster, the movements jerky. Flakes peeled off, fluttering to the ground, but there was still more. Hastily, she squeezed them, rubbing them together as though washing them. The blood was still there. Taunting her.

"Granger."

Her nails raked through the dried mess, painfully scraping her palm, desperate to get it off. She went to do it again, but suddenly Snape grabbed them, halting her attempts and snagging her full attention. He anchored her in the moment.

"Is he still bleeding?"

Hermione shook her head, answering, "I used Essence of Dittany to stop it."

He winced, and she knew at once that hadn't been the correct call. But she'd already been aware of that.

"I know, but he was bleeding out and I didn't know what else to try," she confessed, hating the quiver that shook her voice.

"Wait here," he instructed, searching her face to make sure she would. Relief swept through her. He was going to help.

"Snape," she breathed, "thank you."

With a sharp nod, he left.