Part 1
You were running down the Hogwarts halls, classes had ended and dinner was over. Truly, you should be going to your room.
But you couldn’t, not after what happened.
You had been eating in the dining hall, nothing unusual. Until the boy sat beside you wouldn’t stop touching you. At first he just sat way too close, and then he had his hand on your thigh.
Up and up and up.
You wanted to say something, you really did. But you couldn’t. Not when he had his mate around, not when the outcome of you speaking up could become much, much worse.
You didn’t touch a bite of your food and as soon as dinner was over you leapt up from your seat and to anywhere but there.
You heard him and his friends laughing at your back.
At first you went to one of the bathrooms – furthest away from the dining hall and as far away from your house as possible.
You stayed locked in one of the bathroom stalls for as long as possible. You’d thrown up the little you’d eaten at dinner, either from the disgust or anxiety pooling in your belly. It was a distant thing, but somewhere inside you felt ashamed.
It was dangerously close to the night hours and you knew you had to make it to your room before someone realized you were missing.
But again, you couldn’t.
Not when the boy from dinner was a member of your own house. Not when the look in his eye said ‘I’m not finished with you’. Surely he wouldn’t try anything, not in your own room. But what if he did.
The thought made you want to break down all over again.
You decided you wouldn’t go to your room. No, you’d go to the safest, furthest place you could get.
***
Snape was still in his classroom, of course. It’s not like he ever slept. He heard a timid knock on the door.
For a moment, he wondered who it could’ve been. He thought for a moment it might’ve been another professor, but the knock was so gentle. Maybe Albus, he thought.
Of all the people he thought could’ve been at his door, the last person he’d think to see was you. And stars, were you in some shape. Cheeks flushed and eyes bloodshot, your hair was messy in a sort of way that differed from its usual unkempt state.
Without a second thought he ushered you inside.
You had stood there at his door for a good couple of minutes before finally building up the courage to knock.
“Miss Y/N, what are you doing here at this hour? You should be nearly asleep.” The usual chill of his tone was softened at the edges, lined with something close to worry.
You were one of his best students. Always interested in his lessons, always polite. Every day you’d show up to his class with a delighted spark in your eye, but now that spark was dulled -- and that frightened him.
You took a quick glance up at him, quivering hands folded in front of you. “I- I couldn’t go to my dorm, Professor,” A strangled hiccup caught your breath. “I just couldn’t.” With those weak words, you broke down crying again.
Severus was taken aback, unsure of what to do. Usually when a student was crying near him, it was his fault. But rarely – scratch that – never had a student come to him in tears.
He swiftly led you further into the room with a gentle hand on your shoulder and sat you at his desk.
“What's happened?” He grabbed a glass of water. “Shh, shh. Breathe, here - drink.”
You attempted to grasp the glass but your hands shook too rapidly to get the job done. Severus put the glass back down. Surprisingly, he removed his heavy cloak before placing it on your shoulders, knowing that the weight could help ease you.
“Talk to me.”
“I was- I was at dinner, and this boy,” You heaved. “This boy that sat next to me at dinner, he wouldn’t stop touching me.” You shook out your hands as you tried to retell the story.
I’ll kill him, the professor thought.
“His hand kept going higher and higher. He wouldn’t stop! I told him to stop..”
No, he thought, I’ll torture him.
Professor Snape had no words, none that would be helpful. So he kept a hand on your shoulder, a quiet gesture that meant ‘keep talking.’
“And- and stars, I can’t go to my dorm.” You finally managed to look up into his eyes. “What if he’s there?”
“No, do not worry.” He spoke. “You can stay here, if you like. I will have this all handled by the morning.”
He offered you a place to stay, a place that felt safe. And who would you be to turn him down?
“Really?” He gave a subtle nod. “Thank you! Thank you professor!” And you started crying all over again.
In one cautious, swift movement he pulled you into his arms. You shook with tears, wrapped in Severus’ cloak and his arms.
He swiftly set up a makeshift bed for you. A small cot with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. It certainly wasn’t your bed, but the kindness of the gesture meant more to you than anyone would ever know.
“There,” He fluffed a pillow. “Now you sleep. I’m going to go get this handled before morning.” Before he could stand all the way up you grabbed his hand.
“No, please. Please don’t go.”
He only looked at you, eyes soft. He knew that look, a look of fear. A look of helplessness. One he knew all too well. He wanted to heal your hurt, and hurt whoever caused your hurt.
“Okay, okay. I’ll stay.”
He brought over the stack of papers he was grading before you came in with the wave of his want. He sat next to the little cot, watching as you fell asleep, still hand in hand.