When the doors to her quarters finally closed behind her, Hermione suddenly felt a slight wave of relief. It was meant to be her room now. Her place to live, her own little castle. She looked around curiously. She was standing in a small living room with a brownish wallpaper, buff-coloured sofa, and where all other furnishings had been kept in this awful colour-scheme. She was not a good decorator, but the look of the room reminded her that of the vomits of someone too greedy for chocolate cake. She promised herself to change it a little later. Now the girl was too exhausted to cast even a few simple charms.
Besides the exit into the school corridor, there was a second door. As she suspected, behind them she saw an equally ill-decorated room to the previous one. Too tired to watch the depressing chocolate carpet and beige bed curtains, she laid on the pillows and immediately fell asleep.
It was dark. Too dark for her to see anything. The daylight was gone. It felt strangely familiar, but Hermione couldn't recall what exactly it was. She was frightened. In the darkness, she heard someone's husky breath and a shriek of a woman which abruptly went silent after a slapping sound. There was a sob. Somewhere, but she couldn't point the right direction. The girl stood confused and petrified by fear. She started to weep. Then a cold hand touched her shoulder and she felt unbearable pain which sent her mind to the oblivion.
Then she was awake again. It was dark. Her clothes were soaking wet from sweat. Her face covered with tears. It was dark, but she was safe. She knew it. But she couldn't feel safe anymore. Her body was cold and shaking, both from fear and chill. She stepped from bed, vanished her clothes with the wand and went to the bathroom door. The hot shower always gave her a little relief. She massaged her strained muscles and drank some water. Her curled hairs finally gave up to the streams of fluid falling on her head and straightened up. It always made her smile. The victory over these bushy things growing over her forehead made the witch happier every time in her life. The number of charms and hexes she had to put on them to make them look at least civilized, was not worth her everyday time. It was the issue for special occasions only.
Eventually, she put herself together and sat on the bed to read. It was the middle of the night but she gave up resting. The sleep was no good to her now. She will have to ask Snape for some Sleeping Draught. Or brew it herself if he let her. She smirked. The man was absolutely crazy about his laboratory, she knew it damn too well. She had seen the unpleasant view he'd given her several times during the meeting they'd had in headmistress office yesterday. He was not only displeased by her to intrude his everyday life but seemed a little humiliated too. Hermione was nothing but angry about their forced relationship. In contrary to them, McGonagall was rather happy. If it was for her to judge, the girl wouldn't be surprised if the old witch had some hidden motives to play with them so cruelly. Snape was a broken man. Not fully dead, not really alive. She was dying inside. Her soul was broken, her mind always uneasy. Hermione suffered not only from bad dreams but also had panic attacks during the day. The witch never spoke with anyone about it, too embarrassed to talk about her private sorrows to others. They all were doing surprisingly fine, while she was struggling to survive every single day.
When the sun rose and the time of breakfast already came, she was little hungry but went to the Great Hall anyway. Snape was there, sitting at his usual place, a chair away from Minerva. There was a lot of free space beside the teachers' table, but Hermione had a bad filling, that Headmistress had a special one dedicated to her.
As it turned out, the girl was right. When the young witch approached them, Minerva waved her hand and pointed to the chair next to her smiling kindly. Hermione sighed and took her steps to the right side of the Transfigurations Professor.
"Have you slept well, my dear?" the woman asked with concern.
"Yes," Hermione answered as polite as she could.
She was not a good liar when it was not to something very important. The old witch gave her a little smile and returned to her meal. Hermione poured herself some coffee, desperately trying to avoid anyone's attention. Especially that of the man sitting right next to her. But Snape only as much as looked her.
"What are your plans for today, Hermione? Can I call you that, child?" headmistress gave her another question.
"Of course you can, professor," Hermione forced her lips to smile. "I don't have any particular plans, I was going to ask if there's anything I could help with here, in the castle."
Minerva was visibly pleased by her answer. The young witch knew that she would be. It was her intention to start repaing her depth. Minerva gave her a home, a new start, she was ready to work hard and suffer whatever was needed to show her gratitude to the older woman.
"You can try and repair some of our chimneys and bring back the Floo Network to the Hogwarts. I've already owled the Ministry and we have their permission in that matter."
"Good," Hermione nodded and sipped from her cup. She felt a bit sick. Her head ached. But at least she had now something to focus on.
"It will be all harder than I imagined," she thought. The Battle. The fucking Battle of Hogwarts. It all happened here, in these walls and on the fields beside the castle. The deaths, the terror of upcoming end. The fear of losing the ones she loved. It was here where she lost herself. Why has she come there? For more tortures? Or was she sicking redemption? Maybe she only wanted to understand her fillings. Her heart started to beat faster, her breath became more rapid. She saw dark spots before her eyes. Hermione blinked, trying to put her mind at ease. Trying not to show to the rest of the teachers how weak and broken she was. But her body betrayed her. It always did.
Her hand started to shake, and she had to put the cup aside not to spill the coffee all over the table. She felt such shame when she stood up, her legs trembling, her head dizzy from hyperventilation. She made a few steps but lurched and had to take a grip on someone's arm to not fell on her knees.
"Sorry" she mumbled and tried to get away as fast and unnoticed as she was able to. But the next moment she was clenching into something or – she couldn't guess – someone else.
"Granger," the thing said to her mind in the husky and cold voice which she recognized even despite her state of being. "Calm down woman" he commanded and somehow she managed to listen. Hermione nodded and blinked again, her vision was still unclear. She started to breathe a little slower.
"That's it, witch," he said. "Stop making a fool of yourself, Miss Granger. How would you help me with the classes or even get for them if you panic at the halfway to the dungeons?"
He was right. Hermione knew that. His words were nothing but cold and logical and it was everything she needed in that moment of weakness. Not a warm arm and a person to weep upon her sorrow, but someone strong-minded and cold-blooded enough to just tell her what to do.
"Can you walk?" he asked her dryly.
She nodded again.
"Good then".
Snape helped her on her feet, as she clanged into his black robes. He hissed. She must have hurt him.
"Sorry professor" she groaned.
"Just try to focus on breathing. I have no desire to have your vomit on my boots."
So she did as instructed.
Everyone was watching them, she knew it damn fucking well. And it wasn't helping. Her breath fasted again and she heard Snape swear to himself saying something about her lack of intelligence.
Well, apparently she was stupid. At least stupid enough to assume that coming to Hogwarts would not make any impact on her mind.
"I'm so sorry" she repeated shamefully.
"Of course you are, Granger" he snapped at her. "And you should be. Everyone in this castle will talk about anything but your ridiculous behaviour and me dragging you across the Great Hall."
If it was not about her, she would maybe even laughed. Yes it was insane. It was all crazy for her. The world without the war, the new work with that old piss of...
"Miss Garanger you are talking out loud, so if you have an intention to offend me, please continue, but I would rather suggest you to stop."
"I'm..." she started, but he hushed her with a hiss.
"Yes, I already know that you are sorry. Very, very sorry. But I also know that you are a foxy trouble maker, not anyway better than the Weasley twins are. In my opinion, you are even worse. It's your overwhelming need to save the world that makes you so unbearably annoying. And you are hiding something, Miss Granger. You are always one of mysteries and lies. Don't try to deny the obvious. I know you witch, better than you think. And I will get the thing out of you. If we are to work together I won't have any secrets of yours ruin my lab. Understood?"
She gave him a nod. What else could she do?
They climbed some steps in the silence that fell upon them after Snape's speech. Hermione was thinking hard. Was he telling the truth? What did he know about her? Or was it just a bluff to make her say something he wanted to worm out of her? As her mind eased a bit, she came into a conclusion that Minerva had to have something with it.
They eventually reached her rooms and Snape looked at her coldly.
"I will take you some potions later," he spatted.
"I could brew them myself," she told him proudly.
"No, you couldn't, Granger. You couldn't even eat your breakfast without making dramatics."
Her cheeks would be red from anger if she still wasn't as white as sheet.
"And now, excuse me, Miss Granger. I have a meal to consume. In peace."
And he was gone.
She went into her room, sat on the chair and started crying.