Hilltop Cottage

Hermione’s walk back to Hilltop Cottage had been uneventful as far as she was aware, but her thoughts had not been on her surroundings or on getting from A to B. In fact, she felt glad that she had been able to subconsciously place one foot in front of the other and find her way back without having to concentrate on her route. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess after seeing Severus Snape.

The man had been a greater influence on her than she had ever admitted to anyone else. Despite his dual role, his much-maligned mistreatment of his students, and his ability to make Hermione feel smaller than she already felt, he had been the one constant, unmoveable point during her school years. When everything around her had been chaos and uncertainty, when her parents had died, Snape had always been Snape.

Where Harry had Dumbledore to lean on and look up to, Hermione had Snape. For some reason, no matter how sarcastic or cutting his words might have been, he had been like the centre of the storm for Hermione. Whenever they were in the same room, she had felt calm and safe. Even when the war had ended, the smell of the Potion’s lab had often been enough to bring Hermione a similar sense of peace. It wasn’t the same, though. The Potion’s lab didn’t throb with awareness of his presence, nor did it envelop her with a deep feeling of security. Suddenly seeing him today, Hermione was faced with the stark reality that she was now floating adrift in her storm, and she had missed his steadying influence more than she had realised.

Hermione blindly opened the gate, the creaking of the handle perforating her awareness only slightly as she walked up the path towards the front door. Like an automaton, she put the key into the lock and went inside, throwing her rucksack on the bottom stair and then aiming for the sofa. She sat gingerly, wringing her hands together as she stared into the ashes of last night’s fire. The smell of blood was in her nostrils, and she began to weep as the now all too vivid memory of the Shrieking Shack assailed her. Unaware, she slid down onto the rug in front of the fire and began to sob uncontrollably. It didn’t matter that Snape had survived by some small miracle. She had thought that she had seen him die. It had felt like the world had disappeared under her feet and for months - months and months - Hermione had grieved for him alone, beyond explanation or rational thought.

***
It had taken Severus several attempts to locate the correct dwelling, and he had almost missed Hilltop Cottage as he walked purposefully down the lane. It was the swinging of the gate that first caught his attention, its hinges protesting against the light breeze. As his eyes followed the path, he noticed the small wooden sign above a front door that appeared to have been left open, the key still in the lock. Severus closed his eyes and stretched out his awareness slowly, pulling back just as carefully. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the gate open and stepped through, catching his forehead on the overgrown Privet and swearing silently as he felt blood seep from the scratch. Licking his finger a little, he rubbed the blood away and glared at the offending branch before continuing down the path to knock at the door with a gentle tap, tap.

Severus waited for a few seconds and then pushed the door open impatiently. It was bad enough that he was here in the first place, never mind that Granger had no thought for security or concern for who might walk in off the street. As he stepped inside, he heard what sounded like sobbing and rolled his eyes. The part of him that wanted to just step away from the emotional woman was screaming at him to flee for his life. However, the little-known but often stronger, compassionate side was intrigued. And against his better judgement, he was genuinely concerned.

Severus walked into the middle of the room and stared down at the top of Hermione’s head as it shook. Her crazy hair was still just that, and to his initial glance, she hadn’t changed at all in the two and some years since he had last set eyes on her.

‘Miss Granger,’ he said softly.

Hermione thought she was hearing things when she heard him speak her name.

‘I really am losing the plot,’ she thought to herself. But then he spoke again, a little sterner this time, and she rubbed her already puffy eyes and looked up at him.

He was standing in her front room with his arms folded and a frown on his face, wearing black Muggle jeans, his old Hogwarts boots, and what looked like a donkey jacket that had seen better days. She was so overwhelmed, she didn’t know whether to laugh or just keep crying.

‘I really did think you were dead,’ she whispered. ‘You fooled everyone, including me.’

Much to both of their dismay, Hermione started to cry again.

Severus coughed uncomfortably and then fumbled around in his pocket. It was not unknown for him to catch the odd cold, so he had invested in handy packs of pre-packaged tissues and always kept one in his jacket in case of emergencies. Grabbing the packet, he handed it to the still weeping witch and then walked to the kitchen. If ever there was a time for tea, it was this.

The kitchen was small and narrow, not unlike his own. However, the equipment was a little more up to date. The worktops were made of gleaming granite, and Severus ran his fingers across the sparkling surface appreciatively as he waited for the kettle to boil. His eye was drawn to the view from the kitchen window, where a rickety wooden bird table sat in the middle of a patch of unkempt grass. There were crumbs on the table, and a couple of hedge sparrows were pecking away at them. Severus felt a twinge of envy as he craned his neck to see more of the garden. It seemed to stretch for quite some distance around the rear of the cottage, and he would have loved to go out and explore it. The kettle clicked off and interrupted his musing, and he sighed as he went back to the task in hand. The cynical side of him laughed loudly as he realised he still had to calm down the witch in the other room. He had a feeling it would be a conversation he would regret, either now or at some point in the future.

Hermione had stopped crying and felt her face redden as she heard the professor making tea in her kitchen, feeling there was something wrong with it. She should be playing host, entertaining him as a guest in her home. She had often thought that they might be friends, given different circumstances. Hearing his footsteps on the wooden floor as he walked back into the room, Hermione raised her red-rimmed eyes to his.

‘I am very sorry, Professor. I don’t know what you must think of me.’ She stood awkwardly, a couple of screwed-up tissues falling from her lap, and she reached for the mug of tea he offered to her.

Severus watched her as she took a tentative sip. Her face was streaked with the tracks of her tears, but as the tea warmed her, colour started to return to her cheeks. With a satisfied nod, Severus walked over to the chair beside the fireplace and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

‘I never know if that comment means. Do you wish to know what I actually think of you, or would you prefer I remain silent ?’ he asked conversationally. He lifted his mug and took a noisy slurp.

Hermione let slip a nervous giggle, which earned her a raised eyebrow and a small smile.

‘Sit down, Granger. You look like a guest in your own home.’ Severus held Hermione’s gaze for a moment until she did as he said, sitting down uncomfortably in the middle of the sofa.

‘I’m not sure I do want to know, now you mention it,’ Hermione said, keeping her eyes on her tea.

Severus let out a bark of laughter, and Hermione jumped and sloshed her tea onto the wool rug.

‘Shit,’ she muttered. But before she could head for the kitchen and grab a J-cloth, Severus ‘Evanesco’ed’ the spilt tea with his wand.

‘Thanks,’ Hermione said. ‘I don’t use magic here, to be honest. I never have.’

Severus nodded in understanding. ‘It is all the more necessary not to at the moment, I would imagine.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione asked, surprised.

Severus looked at her for a short moment, then reached inside his jacket and pulled out the folded copy of the Daily Prophet. He didn’t say anything, but he leant forward slightly and handed it to her before stretching out his leg slowly. The ache was back, and he rubbed at his thigh through habit, unaware that the movement caught Hermione’s attention.

‘Are you in pain, sir?’ Hermione asked him quietly.

‘No more than usual. Read, Granger. It’s what you are good at, if I remember rightly.’ Severus set his face in a grim stare.

Hermione blushed and immediately drew her eyes from him as she opened the paper. Her face adorned the front page, and she frowned as she saw the headline and went on to read the article.

‘Bloody hell,’ she hissed. ‘Of all the… How dare they? This is beyond a joke. You would think they might have more news-worthy things to write about, wouldn’t you?’

Severus watched with amusement as the indignation washed over Hermione’s face. At least she seemed to be over her tears, whatever that was all about.

‘Why did you bring me this, Professor?’ Hermione asked. Her voice was tight with anger.

‘I felt it prudent. After our almost encounter this morning, I knew that you would be like the proverbial dog, and I the bone. It wouldn’t have taken long for you to come calling, but I think you should know it would not have been safe. The Prophet is still interested in my now boring and ordinary life, and if you had visited, as you would most definitely have done, your whereabouts would make the front page. Of that, I have no doubt.’

Severus sat back in his chair and finished his mug of tea, then nursed the empty vessel between his hands as he looked at Hermione.

Hermione stared at Snape for a moment. He looked settled in the armchair, relaxed almost. Both legs were outstretched in front of him now, and his fingers were interlocked around his mug. Without really being aware of it, she had felt calmer in the last ten minutes than she had in months. His presence soothed her, and she didn’t really want him to leave just yet. Even the reality that she probably wouldn’t be able to stay undetected in New Mills for very much longer didn’t affect her as much as it probably should have, and Snape was definitely staring at her as if he was waiting for the fall-out.

Hermione stood and held her hand out for his mug.

‘Shall we have more tea?’ she asked him with a slow, almost shy smile.

Severus’s gaze softened slightly, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as he handed her his mug and nodded.