Chapter 3
When she finally stepped away from her former professor, eyes swollen and head pounding, the exhaustion she felt outweighed the embarrassment of the moment. He silently led her down a long hallway into a small bedroom - a simple bed, desk, and dresser with a door that must have led to a bathroom. Looking like he wanted to say something, she stood just inside the doorway, waiting, watching his features carefully. After six years of watching Severus Snape through countless potions classes and Hogwarts meals, she was still surprised that she could decipher even the slightest changes in his expression. Despite that, he simply nodded and turned away, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Hermione took the few steps to the foot of the bed, running her hand across the dark linens. She believed Snape when he said she would be safe there, but it only increased her worry for Ron. If he had made it to Shell cottage, or any of their other safe houses, wouldn’t he have told her so? Told her to come so they could be together? If he wasn’t safe, she had to help him, had to go after him, had to keep her friend alive. A wave of nausea rolled over her as she heard Ron’s voice in her head - *Harry is dead.* She had failed her friend, failed to protect him when he needed it most, instead running after Severus Snape. Would Ron ever forgive her if she told him what she had been doing? Where she had gone? If he knew that she was safely hidden away in *his* home, a warm fire and clean bed waiting for her while he was still possibly fighting for his life? When he too could be dead?
Her chest heaved as tears began to fall again and she drug herself towards the door to the bath. She was greeted with a candlelit room with dark tiled floors and creamy walls, a clawfoot tub off to one side and a large mirror and sink on the other. A gasp escaped her as she took in her reflection - hair flying in every direction and bloodshot eyes surrounded with broken blood vessels from where she had rubbed them raw. Her clothes were tattered from her fall, from the fighting and fleeing before she had even seen Snape that night, and she was suddenly desperate to be rid of them. Turning away, she opened the tap on the tub and slowly stepped out of her muggle sneakers and jeans, pulling her sweater up over her head. The material rubbed across the gashes on her arm and she clenched her teeth, pressing gentle touches to the red and raised skin. MUDBLOOD. Instead of the dizzy feeling she usually got when she thought about the mark, she couldn’t help but think of Snape holding his own arm earlier that night. He, too, was marred with a mark that made him an outsider, that was a reminder of the pain and suffering of his life. She blinked away tears that were starting to form, forcing them away.
She washed quickly, being sure to keep her arm out of the steaming water, then made her way back to the room wrapped in an oversized towel. She was about to transfigure the material into a sleeping gown when a loud crack interrupted her. She screamed, raising her wand towards the sound, but was greeted by a small elf in a muted yellow dress, ears so large they flopped down at the ends. “Excuse my intrusion, Miss. Master Severus wanted me to bring you these.” She pulled a pile of clothing out of thin air, moving to set them on the edge of the bed. “I also made you some tea, if you’d like. And if Miss needs anything else, Winnie is happy to help.” Hermione smiled for the elf’s sake, a painful expression on her tear stained face, before thanking her and sending her away. A kettle and cup appeared moments later on the bedside table, the herby smell filling the room.
The clothes must have been his, just charmed to fit her smaller frame. All black, lightweight but luxurious, she found herself wearing a pair of comfortable trousers and a long, loose fitting shirt with shining black buttons down the middle. Hermione crawled into the bed, the room still dimly lit by simple candle sconces on the wall. Sitting there, back against the headboard and blankets resting across her thighs, she couldn’t help but replay the day over and over. She had no idea what time it was nor how long it had been since Snape had apparated her from Hogwarts, but her exhaustion settled over her once again, lulling her down into the sheets until her eyes closed in sleep.