The Room at the End of the Hall

Chapter 10: The Room at the End of the Hall

Hermione Apparated on Snape's doorstep with her suitcase and Crookshanks. She had not asked Snape about bringing the half-Kneazle, but there really was no other place to leave him. As had been the custom in the past, Hermione rapped lightly on the door before opening it and slipping into the quiet house. The sun had set, and the entryway was dark. Crookshanks immediately jumped from her arms and padded off into the shadows of the house.

A dim light was coming from the living room. Hermione went to investigate. She found Snape sitting in one of the armchairs with his legs crossed and a book in his lap. His robes were missing, leaving him in a white dress shirt and black trousers. The lantern's soft light was kind to the harsh angles of his face, and she felt her heart twist just a bit for him. Snape really was a good man; he was just inept at showing his entire character. He always seemed to fall back on the callous, inconsiderate portion of himself when in social situations. It was obviously a tactic to protect his self-esteem from those who would poke fun at him.

Snape raised his eyes to look at her. "You may place your things in the room at the end of the hall."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "But, sir... I thought, well, I thought that was your bedroom."

"It is a bedroom, Miss Granger. You'll be sleeping there during your stay."

She had already done the math and knew his house well enough to know that bedroom was the only bedroom. "I really don't mind sleeping in here. I can Transfigure the chairs into a bed or sofa for the night and have them returned to normal by the morning."

"You are a guest, and as such, you will take the bedroom."

Hermione knew her mouth was hanging open in a most unsightly fashion, but she never thought she would see the day when Snape was being kind and considerate to her for no apparent reason.

"Do close your mouth, Miss Granger. Don't be so surprised that I retain a modicum of manners. A guest is always given the bed. It would be uncouth of me to make you sleep here." He lifted a hand to indicate the living room. His house really wasn't all that welcoming when one took the time to look. The living room was sparsely furnished with only the two armchairs and a small end table. None of the rooms had curtains, artwork, or decorative items. Then again, Hermione was not surprised. She would have expected nothing more of Snape.

"Yes, sir," she softly said, turning to find the bedroom.

It was furnished just like the rest of the house – sparse and minimalist. Hermione thought it was cold and impersonal. The bed was simple and dressed in white sheets and a white blanket. The only other furniture in the room was a small nightstand and a wardrobe beside the window. The shutters were tightly closed, leaving a single lantern hanging from a hook by the door as the only source of light. There's little wonder he isn't getting any sleep in this room. It's positively sterile and unwelcoming, Hermione thought as she placed her suitcase at the foot of the bed.

She was extremely tired and extremely uncomfortable with the idea of making small talk with Snape at eight o'clock in the evening before she commandeered his bed. However, she also didn't want to appear rude by retiring without thanking him for his generosity. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, she retraced her path down the hall and peeked into the living room. Snape was still sitting in the chair with the book on his lap. His long fingers were idly playing with the edges of the pages. It was such a small gesture, but she found it fascinating and was unable to pull her eyes away as he ruffled the paper.

"Your cat is on my foot." Snape's voice jerked Hermione's thoughts back into the greater world that did not revolve around his fingers lovingly caressing the book in his lap. Glancing down she saw that Crookshanks was stretched out across Snape's left foot.

Hermione dashed over to pick him up, but Crookshanks slid away before she could grab him. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up and clasping her hands behind her back. "Where should I confine him for the night? The bedroom, perhaps?"

Snape shrugged and returned his eyes to the page in front of him. "I see no reason to confine him, provided, of course, that he does not cause an explosion in my house as well."

Hermione opened her mouth to assure him that Crookshanks would not be roaming about the shelves in the laboratory when she realized that his comment was a weak attempt at a joke. She smiled. "Of course not, sir." Shifting slightly on her feet and clearing her throat, she continued, "I'd like to thank you for your hospitality. I appreciate it, and you, more than you know."

Snape slowly raised his eyes up to look at her. His gaze made Hermione nervous for some reason that she couldn't quite pin down.

"I believe I'll retire for the evening and catch up on my rest," she added. He gave her a brief nod before she turned away and walked down the hall. She could feel his eyes on her back until the shadows of the dark hall swallowed her.

A few minutes spent in the bathroom found her in her nightgown and ready for bed. The prospect of sleep was heavenly after so many nights of uncomfortable and interrupted rest. The sheets were cool against her feet and arms when she slid beneath the crisp, white linens on his bed. She couldn't resist pressing her nose into the pillow and inhaling. She expected to detect his unique scent there, but it was only the faint odor of soap. He had obviously washed the bedclothes before she arrived. The realization was slightly disappointing to her, but Hermione was unsure why she cared whether his pillow smelled like soap or not. Sleeping in a former professor's bed was awkward enough without it being covered with his scent.

Despite being horribly exhausted, she lay awake for hours listening to his movements. The house was small and isolated, so there was virtually no noise through the cracked door except for Snape shifting in his chair every few minutes. It was well after eleven o'clock when she finally slipped into a comfortable rest. Snape was still awake and still reading the book long after she found sleep.

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Snape met her in the hall the following morning with a cup of tea. She had already gone through her morning ritual to tame her hair and make herself reasonably presentable, so she took the cup with a murmured thank you and followed him into the laboratory. Fridays were always the least busy days since most orders arrived on Mondays. Both Hermione and Snape began working on their potions without exchanging morning pleasantries. She didn't think he was the morning sort.

The lab was quiet and Hermione was grateful for the peaceful nature of his household as opposed to the rambunctious Potter/Weasley flat. She had slept through the night and woken up refreshed. The offer of tea and the generally pleasant atmosphere Snape was projecting was unexpected, but welcome.

After he brought lunch back for both of them, she asked if he would mind her staying another night or two. He shrugged and, between bites of his sandwich, told her that she could stay until the association decided her fate. She expected some sort of backhanded comment about her being a bother, but it never came. Instead, he seemed to be taking her stay extremely well.

Snape looked better than he ever had since the war ended. The daily meals were filling out his sunken cheeks, and even his hair seemed healthier. There were still dark circles beneath his eyes, but she couldn't fault him for those. She had experienced many sleepless or nightmare-fraught nights since the final battle. Hermione couldn't imagine the horror Snape had seen while entrenched in Voldemort's camp. At the moment, she was simply happy to see her risk of bringing him food that day the week before had paid off. Two solid weeks of eating at least one full meal each day worked wonders.

Friday afternoon was just as quiet as Friday morning, and Hermione finished her work early. She pulled a stool up and watched Snape brewing. His hands moved so quickly and precisely that they hypnotized her. They spoke briefly of working on his project over the weekend, since she would be staying for a day or two longer. Hermione was surprised that he seemed to take her participation for granted after he had blown up about it on Monday morning, telling her that she couldn't possibly help him. However, she felt like she should take what she could get, and she enthusiastically agreed to assist him the following day.

Snape dismissed her for the evening at four o'clock. Hermione Apparated to Diagon Alley to owl Robert, Ginny's French Healer. She had been thinking about Snape's potion since early that morning and couldn't seem to get the idea out of her head that he had someone specific that he wished to use it on. Robert was her best chance of discovering if Snape really was visiting someone in St. Mungo's long-term coma ward. If a date was the easiest way of getting that information, then she would take it like a woman and arrange a date.

Robert's reply arrived shortly after she returned to Snape's cottage. His letter was brief, but told her that he had made reservations at The Culinary Cauldron for Saturday evening. Snape was reading in his usual chair when the owl skittered to a stop on the windowsill, but he didn't ask Hermione what the letter said or who it was from. He simply raised a brow and went back to his book. She felt as if she was interrupting his private time so she retreated to the bedroom, saying that she planned on turning in early.

Author's Note: Thank you to Snarkyroxy for being a wonderful beta. Thanks also to Allyness and Jessica for helping me out. Just a reminder to anyone who may not know... This fic is finished and is total of fifteen chapters. I'm posting two chapters a week until I've posted everything. This chapter is a bit of a transition one, but I promise you that the next one will be longer and involve a great deal more interaction between Hermione and Snape.