As if Nothing had Happened

Thanks to my beta RobinsonRocket!

I own none of the characters, despite how much I love to steal them.

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Hermione's eyes fluttered open, revealing utter darkness. Looking around cautiously, her heart pounded; she had no idea where she was. She reached under her pillow for her wand, but no comforting handle of wood brushed her fingers. Searching more frantically, she finally realized that she was unarmed and alone.

Her breath was coming quickly now, and she closed her eyes—trying with little luck to calm herself. When her breathing evened out somewhat, she opened her eyes again. She ran her hands through her robes, feeling hopelessly for her wand.

Resigning herself to the fact that she was unarmed, she took in her surroundings. She could tell that she was in a bed; the wooden frame was smooth, and the sheets were silky and cool to the touch. It was difficult to see much in the dark room, but her eyes were slowly adjusting. She noted that the room was large, and there was a dim light at the far end.

Pushing the covers off herself and swinging her legs off the bed, she felt cold stone beneath her bare feet. She shivered but stood up. Slowly approaching the light, she noticed that it was coming from under a door. Her hand reached for the handle despite the warning in her head that it was probably warded. A cold sweat breaking out over her body, she tentatively touched the handle. She pushed it down, and the door swung open.

The room was suddenly bathed with light, and Hermione felt blinded. She stumbled back.

“Hermione?” A deep, rich voice questioned, “Are you alright?”

Hermione took a few calming breaths and forced her mind to concentrate—she knew that voice!

“Professor Snape? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he answered. Hermione felt a shadow fall across her, and she looked up towards the thin form of her old Potions master.

A feeling of safety washed over her, and she tentatively smiled at him.

Looking at him standing there, tall, dark, and fearless, Hermione tried to see herself through his eyes: frightened and cowering. You’re pathetic, she told herself.

Digging her fingernails into her hand, she looked up at him, defiant. “Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

He looked at her, his face contorted with confusion, and said “It’s no bother, Hermione; I was coming to check on you when you opened the door. You looked so frightened.” He reached toward her but she pulled away.

“I’m perfectly alright, Professor. I’m sorry that you thought I was frightened. You were mistaken.” She squeezed her nails harder into the palm of her hand.

Snape looked taken aback by her cold attitude and muttered, “Of course, I must have been mistaken. Just a trick of the light. I’ll let you get ready for the day. The bathroom is through that door.” He pointed to another door in the bedroom. “And your wand is on the bedside table if you haven’t seen it. Lumos.” The lights in the room flared, and Snape whirled around and left Hermione alone once again.

After he left, Hermione ran to the bedside table and hugged her wand to her like a lifeline. Warm tears ran down her face, and she angrily wiped them away.

Hermione made her way to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. Still seething at herself, she reached into her robes, only to find that she was in a nightgown. Muttering under her breath, she transfigured the gown back into her robes. She reached once again into her robes only to find that her razor blade was gone.

“Damn you, Severus!” she cursed. Looking around the bathroom, she scowled.

She locked the doors and grasped her wand tightly, whispering “Diffindo.” Her pale skin spit open, and blood splattered the floor.

She cursed again and looked around again, spotting a towel hanging next to the skin. She crossed the floor and grabbed the towel, pressing it to her arm. Glancing back, she couldn’t see the blood on the black floor, but she pointed her wand in the general direction and whispered, “Evanesco.”

It was at that moment that the door banged open, and Severus Snape burst into the bathroom, fury written all over his face.

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The look on her face when she saw me was pure relief. Why was she so angry? Severus thought to himself. He was sitting at his dining table when he heard a curse from the bathroom. He shook his head, amused, and returned to his breakfast.

Suddenly he remembered the evening before and Hermione’s trip to the bathroom. He shoved his chair back and stalked over to the bathroom door, whispering, “Alohamora.” The door swung open, and he stepped into the room, angry that he had left her alone again.

She was standing near the sink, a towel clutched to her arm.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he roared.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? I locked the door for privacy, not so you could barge in!” she bellowed back.

He scowled at her and marched over. “Show me your arm,” he demanded.

She glared at him. “No.” At his look of anger, she growled, “You can’t force me.”

He continued to stare at her. Neither was at the point of giving up when they heard a voice call from the other room “Severus! I want to talk to you. Now!” It was Molly Weasley.

Severus sighed and, glaring once more at Hermione, stalked out of the bathroom promising, “We’ll finish this later.” When he had assured Molly of Hermione’s safety, he returned to the bathroom to find his towel back next to the sink and the young woman gone.