Chapter Seven: Safe

Disclaimer : the characters aren't mine, the Potterverse isn't mine, even the prompt is someone else's!

Many thanks to my lovely beta, ladyinthecloak, for all your help and suggestions. Where would I be without you?

Chapter 7: Safe

Hermione pulled away, realising she was once again hugging her ex-Potions master. She noticed the bemused expression on his face and couldn't hold in an unladylike snort.

"If I had known that a hug was all it took make you lose the smirk, I would have started doing so years ago," she proclaimed.

"If you had started hugging me years ago, I think the two stooges would have had you immediately committed to St Mungo's," he retorted promptly without so much as batting an eyelid at her impertinence. He showed her into the sitting room. "I will take your bags up to your room. Make yourself at home while I organise something for dinner. Feel free to peruse the bookshelves," he added as he left the room.

She took the opportunity to explore Snape's modest living area. It was larger than it appeared at first sight, due to the numerous book-laden shelves placed against nearly all of the walls. The candles in the ceiling fitting were augmented by several candlesticks on the mantle over the fireplace, the desk, and some side tables. Faded, floral, seventies-style wallpaper covered the walls; a thinning carpet showed evidence of many years of use. However, the room was clean and tidy. The couch looked as if it had seen better days, but the new armchair by the hearth looked inviting. She spent a few minutes admiring the professor's extensive collection of books, then chose one at random and settled into the armchair for a browse.

When Snape returned to the room twenty minutes later to announce that dinner was served, he found her curled up in his chair, sound asleep. She looked so peaceful he was loath to disturb her. Placing a warming charm on the food, he selected a book himself and settled onto the couch to wait.

He soon found that he could not concentrate on his book. His eyes kept straying to the sleeping girl opposite, whose hair was sprawled over the arm of the chair, the wayward curls shot with amber lights from the fire. Her face was soft in repose and to his surprise, quite pretty. Snape had always been too occupied with maintaining his cruel, unjust, Death Eater persona to pay any attention to his students, unless he was berating them for their lack of prowess in class, or misdeeds out of it. This was no mere student before him; this was a talented, powerful, young witch, who had placed her faith in him – her greasy, unpopular, former professor. She was so young and vulnerable; he found himself feeling emotions he had never experienced before: protectiveness, compassion – even tenderness. At that moment, he realised she was awake and studying his face.

What are you thinking, Professor? Hermione wondered, having caught the warmth in his expression before he noticed her gaze.

"Ah, you are awake. Have a nice nap in my chair, did you?" He smirked, but the glint in his eyes told her he was teasing. Another first.

"Yes, thank you," she replied nonchalantly, stretching as she uncurled herself. "It is a very comfortable chair." She curbed the urge to saucily poke out her tongue at him, but was very tempted. She was astounded by her own bravado and even more so by his tolerance and good humour when he simply lifted his eyebrow at her response.

"Well, there is no need to stand there with your mouth open. Dinner is on the table." He swept out to the kitchen, leaving her with her mouth agape at his abrupt change in demeanour. Now that's the Severus Snape we all know and love, she reminded herself as she followed.

After consuming some hot food and two mugs of tea, Hermione felt more like her usual self. It was time to find out what she had missed.

"I'm not sure I want to know this, but please tell me what has happened since you left me in that alleyway," she asked once they had cleaned up the dishes and returned to the sitting room.

Snape sat on the couch beside her, then proceeded to describe the events leading up to Voldemort's defeat, attempting to gloss over his own near-death experience in the process.

"So, Harry had to die in order to destroy the last Horcrux, but Professor Dumbledore didn't see the need to inform him of that minor fact? How could he have been so manipulative, so... so... cold?" Hermione was incredulous at the late headmaster's perceived duplicity.

"He always did what needed to be done, despite the costs. I resented it more than anyone," said Snape bitterly, "but I knew deep down that victory could only be gained for a price."

"And that price was nearly Harry's life... and yours," she murmured as she reached over and gently pulled his collar away from the still angry scar on the side of his neck. She tentatively ran her finger down the disfigured skin and felt a tear form as she realised how close this man had come to death. His hand clasped hers and held it for long moments as they both contemplated the fragility of life.

"How did you survive the attack?" she asked quietly.

He shuddered at the recollection of that night. "You don't spend so many years around a madman with a snake that size without taking some precautions. I had developed an antivenin after Arthur Weasley's encounter with Nagini and dosed myself as soon as I Apparated to Hogwarts that night. I passed out initially from the shock, but as the antivenin took effect, I roused for long enough to use the Blood-Replenishing potion and Dittany that I always carried, which must have kept me alive until I was found and transported to St Mungo's." He stared down at his hands, as if surprised again that he was still alive.

"I spent weeks there in a coma, but eventually woke to find Potter had become my self-appointed champion and had decided to use my memories to clear me of all my crimes."

"Memories?"

"Memories of my past, including those of my Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore and his order that I kill him," he explained.

"I always knew you were on the right side, that you were a good person. I'll admit that I didn't always understand why you behaved as you did, but I always respected and trusted you." Hermione squeezed the hand that still held hers, prompting him to continue.

"You would be one of few." She noted a suspicious gleam in the corner of his eye as he carried on. "By the time I was allowed to leave the clutches of the Healers, I was free to return here. I didn't find out about the other casualties of the battle until the day I left."

Hermione was sobbing by the time he had informed her of those who had been lost or seriously injured and found herself enclosed in the comforting strength of Snape's arms. After a while, she realised that he, too, was quietly weeping at their losses.

Rousing himself some time later, Snape carefully lifted his now sleeping charge and carried her up the stairs to her room. Removing her shoes, he tucked her into bed and brushed her forehead with his lips. "Sleep peacefully, Hermione," he whispered, then extinguished the candles and softly closed the door.

***

Waking early the next morning to another beautiful summer's pre-dawn, Hermione felt well rested and relaxed. Despite her sadness about all she had learned the previous evening, the reassurance and strength she had received from Snape had boosted her morale. The fact that he had cried with her was strangely soothing. Knowing that he was mourning as much as she gave them common ground. Their relationship had changed, and it was a good change. She still felt embarrassed to have been so emotional in his presence twice in one evening, but somehow knew that this Severus Snape was a different man from the one she had known before, who would not judge and find her wanting. There seemed to be a bond of grief and succour they had formed the previous night, which was never to be sundered.

Another problem became evident as she was lying in bed thinking about her new companion. Her bladder was announcing its fullness urgently, having not been emptied the night before. She threw the bedclothes aside and dashed out into the hall. Unsure of which of the other doors lead to the bathroom, she crossed her fingers and opened the door opposite her room. A startled Severus Snape, clad only in a damp towel, looked up as she burst in, her mission obvious. "Next door along!" he called, smirking at her blush.

After her immediate problem was relieved, Hermione took a few moments to splash some cold water on her heated face. Who knew the dour Potions master had a body like that? Just as well he is twenty years older than me, or Ron might have competition. Recalling her boyfriend immediately derailed her train of thought. How were her friends? They had been told she was dead. Had Ron moved on in the last few months? What would she tell them? Should she even contact them if they wouldn't recognise her? She groaned with the weight of it all.

Peeking around the bathroom door, she ascertained that Snape had gone downstairs. She gathered up a change of clothes and retired back into the bathroom to shower, clean her teeth, and gather up the courage to face the, hopefully now fully dressed, man below.

Delicious aromas of coffee and bacon were wafting out of the kitchen as she entered. The chef turned and indicated that she should take a seat at the small dining table. "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes, help yourself to coffee. I have mine black," he ordered, apparently oblivious to her residual embarrassment. She poured the coffee and took her place at the table. Snape placed a plate laden with lightly scrambled eggs, bacon, and tomatoes in front of her. Catching her eyeing the amount on the plate, he quirked an eyebrow. "Eat! You need to put on some weight; you are far too thin, young lady."

"Sorry," she replied. "I was just getting used to the idea of decent food again. My wage from the coffee shop doesn't exactly stretch far enough for cooked breakfasts."

"Well, while you are living here, you have no need to skimp on meals."

"But, I don't want to be a burden..."

"Nonsense! I am quite able to feed you. Now eat!"

She ate.

After the meal, she insisted on cleaning up the kitchen. It was only fair that if he cooked, she would clean. As she put away the dishes, she turned to her host.

"Professor?"

"Severus. I have not been your professor for over a year. In fact, I am no longer teaching at all, so unless you wish to call me 'Mr Snape,' which seems a little redundant, as we are both adults living in the same house, I would suggest you use my given name. Or, of course, if you have any other, preferred epithet, feel free to use that." He smiled at her expression. "You had a question?"

"Well, I was thinking about Harry, Ron and the others. I would rather not see them just yet. I'm not sure how I feel about them not being able to recognise me the way I am, and if we can't find a way to reverse the potion..." She looked at him pleadingly.

"You would rather they didn't know you were alive," he completed for her.

"Er... yes," she agreed. "They have had several months to get used to me not being around, and if I had to remain as I am, I think I would rather return to a wholly Muggle life."

"What about Mr Weasley? I believe he was extremely distraught at your supposed demise. Would you not want to reassure him?" Snape asked gently.

"I realise it has been hard for them, with all the other losses as well, but if they can't recognise me as myself, then it won't ever be the same, will it?" she responded.

"I can see your point of view, Hermione. I will respect your wishes and not inform anyone of your presence here. I have few visitors; there is little likelihood of you being discovered. Now I presume you will need to be at work soon. If so, I will Apparate you there when you are ready. However, I suggest that you tender your resignation, as we will need to concentrate on finding a way to restore your magic. Do not be concerned about money," he added, noting her frown. "As I said before, I am quite capable of providing for you. If you want to earn your keep, I am sure I can find some household chores for you to do..."

"You obviously haven't tasted my cooking," she muttered under her breath.

"Ha! I heard that! Don't tell me there is something that Hermione Granger doesn't excel at? Never mind, cooking is just like brewing Potions. Follow the instructions carefully, be accurate with your timing, and once you know what you are doing, add a little panache. You can't go wrong." He waved his hand with a flick. "See... panache!"

She giggled at his sudden outburst of uncharacteristic silliness, then sobered.

"Seriously, I don't know how I can repay you for everything you have done. You could have just as easily forgotten about me," Hermione replied, once again hugging her benefactor.

Severus responded with a light kiss to the top of her head, as if to a favoured child. "Don't worry about it just now. Run upstairs and get your bag, it's time to go," he instructed.

A few minutes later, she stood in the circle of Severus' arms once again as he Apparated them to the quiet alleyway near the café. This time, she was acutely aware of his nearness, but also of the feeling of safety and comfort derived therein.

***

A/N: Based on prompt 93. "Someone has his or her powers stripped away for misuse. Did he/she lose them because of actual misuse or was it a set up? How do they get them back?"