Five

The first thing Hermione was aware of was a hard floor at her back.

The second thing she noticed was warmth.

The third and fourth things were that she was alive and being stepped on by four delicate, yet sharp-clawed paws.

"Get off of her, you wretched feline," a familiar voice growled.

Hermione groaned.

"Granger, you are not seriously injured. Cease polluting my floor," the voice instructed. "Or do you wish for me to cast a Rennervate again?"

"Nrgh, no..." Hermione struggled to open her eyes. When she managed that feat, she found herself staring into a pair of intelligent blue ones. Long whiskers tickled her nose.

"Saturn, I will not tell you again. Leave Granger alone."

Who was Saturn?

The owner of the eyes and whiskers also appeared to possess a pair of ears, one of which twitched in the direction of the familiar voice that Hermione could not, for the life of her place.

"Granger, get up." Whoever owned the voice obviously expected Hermione to obey him, and she struggled to move her arms and legs. All she could produce was a weak scrabbling.

"Oh, Merlin's bollocks, is that the best you can do?"

Hermione meant to snap apparently so, but managed only a weak "apfrgh" before the hard floor spun her back into the comforting darkness.

Hermione awoke again, this time on a soft surface. There was a soft, warm, purring object on her stomach.

Where am I? Nearby, she could feel the warmth of fire and smell something delicious. Is that stew?

Carefully, Hermione shifted, and the soft, warm, purring object raised its head.

Oh, it's a cat. Hello, puss. It looks Siamese.

Hermione reached out a hand (it felt leaden) to pet the cat. She noticed she was dressed in a soft, oft-washed t-shirt and sweatpants.

What did Professor Snape call it? Oh, yes, Saturn.

"Hello, Saturn."

Saturn purred and butted his had against her outstretched hand.

"You are such a good cat," Hermione observed.

"Good isn't the adjective I would choose."

Professor Snape!

Good God, did he dress me?

Painfully, Hermione turned her head to blink confusedly at the denim-clad knee near her.

"What... Did you dress me?"

"Not the question I was expecting. No, Granger, there are clothing charms available to me. I promise you, your modesty is intact."

"Oh." Hermione struggled through the fog in her brain. "What am I doing here?"

"Exactly the point, Granger," Snape rejoined, squatting so that he was at eye level, "Why are you here?"

"I Apparated."

"That's not what I asked you, stupid... You did what?"

"Apparated. Please, sir, why can't I keep my eyes open?"

"You Apparated? Granger, did it not occur to you how dangerous it is to Apparate over five thousand miles? Whatever possessed you?"

"Five thousand... Sir, where am I?"

"You are," Snape said heavily, "in my house, my home."

"Spinner's End?"

"No! Don't be ridiculous." Even grasping to consciousness, Hermione could detect the sneer. "This is my home, not that flea-bitten hellhole in Manchester."

"And where is this?" Hermione grumbled.

"Siletz Bay."

"Where?"

"Siletz Bay, Oregon."

"Oh, God."

"If you like." Snape's mouth twitched. "Professor will do, however."

"I just Apparated almost five thousand miles?"

"Welcome to the conversation, Granger."

"How did I not kill myself?"

"I admit I am at a loss. What possessed you to come here, anyway?"

Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows. The room spun, but not as much as she had expected. Saturn miaowed at her and jumped off the sofa.

"I... ooh, I was trying to get to the place in my vision."

"Your vision."

"When you told me to concentrate, to feel my magic pulling me to a place, I saw someplace wild, with sea and mist and mountains. And I thought it was Ireland, so I just ... went."

She blinked, looking around the room. It was long, and at the end where she sat, a cheerful fire crackled in an exposed brick wall. Beside the fireplace, the facing wall was a bank of windows that looked out onto a deck and a beach and stormy sea. Turning slightly, Hermione saw that the room was divided into two portions by a massive, curved staircase, separating the living area from the kitchen and dining area. All around her was warm, golden wood, comfortable chairs, tasteful rugs, and piles of books that seemed to be begging to be read.

"It's beautiful," she murmured.

"Thank you," Snape replied, "but you still have not explained why you are here. Ireland? Do you know nothing about topography?"

Hermione glared at him. "This, there." She pointed through the window. "I saw that. There. That was the place I supposed to be."

"Your place. The place from which you draw your magic is my back deck?"

"Well, this area." Hermione felt herself growing stronger as she spoke. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"This is the place where my magic resides," Snape replied. "There must be some mistake."

"Why?"

"Because, if a witch and a wizard share an affinity for the same place, the consequences..." Snape paused. "The consequences are rather serious."

"Serious? How?"

Snape looked out at the wild water. Hermione was stunned to see him chewing his lip.

The silence stretched between them. In the kitchen, the refrigerator clicked on. It was a surprisingly Muggle sound. Suddenly, she felt comforted, secure.

"You have to leave," Snape said. "I... I may have been hasty in telling you about finding the source of your magic. Minerva will be wondering if you're awake, anyway."

"Min – Professor McGonagall knows I'm gone? How long..."

"Granger, you have been unconscious in my living room for a week."

Hermione boggled at him. How could she have been unconscious for so long? And how had Snape come to be here during term time?

Snape grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the basket atop the mantle.

"A week," Hermione murmured.

"Yes. You are fortunate that last Saturday was not a Hogsmeade weekend; I usually come out here on the weekends when I am not on duty."

"How do you get here?" Hermione asked, sitting back down abruptly.

"Portkey," Snape replied, crouching before the fire. "And then I Apparate or drive from Portland. Much easier and safer than from Hogwarts. MINERVA! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Portland," Hermione muttered. "Hogsmeade. Oregon. Oh, Merlin." The room began to spin again.

"MINERVA, WHAT? WHAT? GRANGER HAS COME TO," Snape bellowed into the fire. "Bloody transatlantic Floo lines."

Black specks floated before Hermione's eyes.

"Professor," she said. "I think... I think I'm going to..."

"Oh, no you don't, Granger. MINERVA, I'LL CALL YOU BACK. I'LL CALL YOU... Oh, hell."

The next thing Hermione knew was that Professor Snape was holding her head between her knees and muttering about bloody Gryffindors throwing up over his reclaimed pine floors.

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered reaching for her wand. "Here, let me." She waved her wand and whispered Evanesco. Nothing happened.

"Oh, not again," she moaned. "I thought... Oh, bugger." Giving in to the exhaustion, Hermione wept noisily onto Professor Snape's denim-clad knee. She was more than a little surprised when she felt his arms snake around her and hold her close.

"It's not unusual, Granger," he said. "You've been through a great deal."

Hermione sniffled; it was a truly unlovely sound, she knew.

"Will it... will my magic come back?" she asked.

Against her, she felt Snape sigh. "If this is the place from which you draw your magic," he said resignedly, "yes."

Hermione spent the rest of her first day awake reclining on Snape's sofa (a soft, supple, dark leather) beneath a warm throw, snuggled up to Saturn and watching the waves break upon the beach. Far off in the distance, as the fog and rain swirled away from the house, she thought she could see whales breaching, but she wasn't sure.

In the corner of the room, Snape had a spotter's scope set up.

"I like watching the whales," he replied shortly when she'd asked him about it. "Every year, they make the journey from the southern tip of California to the waters off British Columbia. Every year they return."

"How many years have you watched them?" Hermione asked.

Snape smiled briefly and refused to answer.

Hermione returned to watching the endless breaking of the waves and the swaying of the grasses, clumped on the dunes.

Farther down the beach, horses and riders plodded in the driving rain.

It was in the early evening, as the setting sun broke through the clouds, with Hermione propped up with a warm mug of tea seeping into her soul and Snape in a nearby mission-style chair with a thick book, that she dared ask, "What about my NEWTs? If I can't perform magic, how am I supposed to sit for my NEWTs? And, oh, God, I've lost a week of revision!"

"Calm yourself, Granger. You are doubtless more than prepared to sit your NEWTs. A lost week will not harm you. And if all else fails, I will bundle you through the Floo. Though Merlin only knows what state you'll be in at the other end."

Oh, wonderful, Hermione thought, Professor Snape has a sense of humor. "I'm so glad this is amusing you, Professor," she grated out.

"You think I enjoy having you here?" Snape demanded. "That couch happens to be my favorite spot to sit in the evenings. You have also, if I may point out, usurped my cat. And my favorite mug."

"Nobody asked you to be nice to me," Hermione retorted. "I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of..."

"No, Granger, you're not. You can't even get off my damned couch without throwing up."

"I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you and your damned theories about magic having a geographical source!" Hermione stormed, sitting up sharply and dislodging a very put-out Saturn.

"I was doing you a favor, Granger."

"Some favor! I'm weaker than a kitten, I can't do magic at all now, so I'm stuck here for Merlin knows how long, and I'm going to fail my NEWTs because of you!" From the kitchen, Saturn hissed at the arguing pair.

"Oh, for the love of Calypso's pigs, you are not going to fail your NEWTs," Snape stormed back at her. "You'll be here for a few days, return to Hogwarts, properly, and we will continue as we have always done. I can understand your impatience to leave, Granger. Believe me, nothing would make me happier. But I will not have you upsetting my cat!"

Hermione subsided.

"So, there's no help for it, I suppose," she grumbled.

"Unfortunately not."

"Erm. I'm sorry about Saturn."

"Don't apologize to me. Apologize to the cat."

Hermione stared hard as Snape raised his book and continued to read.

"I will prepare dinner beginning in one hour," he said from behind the pages. "I trust you are fond of salmon?"

AN: Not mine, no money. Special thanks to Bluestocking, Annie, Subversa, and Dicky for their super fast help with this!