Hermione was quickly walking, but the panic pushed her to a run. She'd turned down a hallway that led to the dungeons without a second thought, she could hear the echo of McLaggen's steps far behind her, but she knew that he was following her still. He'd been so angry; her wrist still stung from where he'd grabbed her and yanked her to him. The panic was rippling in her chest like wildfire, and she hoped she would find a safe place before she passed out from the lack of oxygen. Hermione wondered if she was holding her breath, or if the air in the dungeon simply had less oxygen than the rest of the castle. But before she could decide she saw the door to the potions classroom, and for the first time in all her years at Hogwarts, she felt a surge of relief at the thought of Professor Snape. She threw open the door before slamming it shut behind her, the noise no doubt alerting McLaggen who had to be closing in on her, but she didn't care, Snape would have to help her. He's a professor; he would have to do something. Though she felt a cold tendril of doubt seize her throat, she tried to push it away. He had to help her.

"Miss Gran-" She heard his drawl, his head snapping up from his work at the noise of the door. But he stopped as he looked at her; her shirt was askew and missing buttons, face and wrist bearing the red marks of brutality.

"Please, help me, he's so angry." Hermione hissed out through her tears, holding onto the handle of the door as if her determination alone could keep McLaggen from trying to enter through it.

Snape said nothing, though she thought his eyes widened with an emotion. Whether it was anger, confusion, or pity, she did not know, and she didn't care. He pointed towards a door across the room, and Hermione took off towards it, hoping it would provide her the sanctuary she needed.

She hadn't even shut the door all the way when the potions classroom door was thrown open once more. Hermione heard McLaggen's footsteps slow and knew he'd seen Snape. If he thought she was in the room, there was nothing he could do now, not after a Professor saw him.

"Can I help you, McLaggen?" Snape drawled, no sign of agitation in his voice. She wondered how he did it, how he threw up such an indifferent mask that deceived those around him.

"I was looking for a friend," McLaggen said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. He was trying to catch his breath from their chase, and his jaw was clenched with rage.

"Who may that be?" Snape asked his tone a mask of disdain, toying with McLaggen in a way that Hermione knew pleased him.

"Granger, I thought she had come in here. I see that I was mistaken." McLaggen responded, playing at being unconcerned with the change in events though Hermione knew better. He was furious, he was steaming, and she flinched at the sight of him she caught through the crack of the open door.

"5 points from Gryffindor," Snape said with a sneer at the boy in his classroom, both Hermione and McLaggen were a bit confused at his reply.

"Excuse me?" McLaggen almost squeaked, his eyes wide.

"It is after curfew," Snape said, "Now get back to your common room before I get Professor McGonagall." And just like that, McLaggen was dismissed with a wave of the Professor's hand, and Hermione felt like she could breathe again.

Hermione backed into the room she'd hidden in, finally able to catch the breath she'd been holding. She took in her surroundings and was surprised to find a pleasantly furnished sitting room, one she could only assume was Snape's. There was a large fireplace, a pair of leather chairs, and so many books she wondered how he fit them on the shelves. Another door across the room from her was no doubt the entrance to Snape's chambers, and Hermione wasn't sure whether to be uncomfortable at her proximity to them or to be curious. Her withdrawn Professor was such an enigma, and she'd always loved puzzles.

Before she could ponder the mystery that was her Professor any further, he pushed open the door from his classroom. He was staring down at her with cold indifference, but as his gaze passed over the mark on her cheek, she swore she saw anger flare in his black eyes.

"Thank you." Hermione breathed, her shoulders drooping as she released the tension she'd been holding.

"What happened?" He asked her, with no tone or intonation, to give her a clue at his thoughts.

"He- McLaggen, well-" Hermione stuttered, wondering how to explain the past half hour to her Professor, it was almost embarrassingly impossible.

"What did he do to you?" Snape asked again, his jaw tight this time.

"He wanted to be more intimate than I was comfortable with," Hermione started delicately, this was something she wished she could speak to McGonagall about instead, "When I declined, he was less than satisfied."

Snape said nothing as he walked over to the leather armchairs in front of his fireplace, Hermione almost thought he was unaffected by her confession, but then he did something unexpected. Snape roughly pushed a glass orb off the mantle of his fireplace onto the stone floor. The sound of it shattering, breaking the silence in the room sharply. It reminded her of something Ron or Harry would do if she'd told them. They'd lash out in outrage at the first thing in front of them. It made her wince after everything that happened; against her rational thoughts, she was still scared of being struck again.

Snape saw her flinch, and his eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a moment before he schooled his expression once more.

"I apologize," He told her in his even tone, and Hermione nodded in response, trying to will her body to relax again.

"How did you get those marks?" He asked, waving his hand towards her wrist and face as he sunk into one of the armchairs.

"He- he grabbed my wrist when I tried to get away," She told him, her voice trembling at the memory, "And when I spat in his face, he smacked me."

Snape looked angry, but she saw the ghost of a smile when she mentioned spitting in McLaggen's face. Despite her trembling, she was proud of that moment, if nothing else.

"Shall I call McGonagall?" He asked her gently, but she shook her head.

"Please, no," Hermione started, "I- I just want to forget about it. Telling her will only make him angrier."

"He deserves to be punished for his actions," Snape responded quickly, and the fire in his eyes startled her. He rarely raised his voice in class, let alone let his students see more than bland indifference on his face.

"Please," Hermione pleaded, sitting down into the armchair across from him.

Snape only nodded in response, though Hermione could tell by his clenched jaw that he wasn't happy about it. His eyes lingered on the bruise forming on her wrist, and he pushed himself up from his chair. Snape made his way over to a cabinet near his bookcases, and she watched as he rummaged through the jars and vials she could only assume were his personal stores of potions. He decided upon a blue glass jar and brought it over to the chair she sat in.

"It's a salve to help with the bruising." He told her, before retaking his place across from her. His tone was awkward and strained, and she realized that this was probably the most lengthy conversation they'd ever had. And also the kindest he'd ever been to her throughout her time at Hogwarts.

She nodded in response, and he began to roll up his sleeves. Hermione was confused but tried to school any expressions she had on her face, he'd been so helpful so far, and she felt terrible being distrustful of him after that. When he opened the jar, she was struck by the scent of mint, and wondered if the salve would sting the irritated skin on her wrist.

Snape said nothing as he fished out a glob of the salve and opened his hand, expecting her to offer her wrist to him. Hermione did so slowly, she couldn't deny that after everything she'd been through that she was hesitant with him. He gently took her hand, his soft touch surprising her, and began to rub the salve into her skin with delicate strokes.

Hermione hissed slightly at the feeling of the salve, it was cold and tingled against her bruise, but with Snape's continued ministrations, the feeling lessened. It left a dull tingling that she knew was magic, and it felt like the injury was healing slowly.

"Thank you," She told him as he continued his touches, and he nodded in response.

He continued in silence, the sound of his robes brushing over the floor the only sound besides the crackling fire, and Hermione felt calm. She felt safe, and she knew that Harry and Ron would never believe her if she told them about tonight. There was something about their Professor that the boys had never seen before, a kindness that lurked behind his black eyes, and it made her happy and sad at the same time. She hated that she'd missed it before, but the mere presence of it was a glimmer of hope in their darkening world.

When he finished, neither said anything, both just sat staring at the fire in silence. It was serene and calm, and Hermione found herself wishing it would never end.

"It's after curfew," Snape told her simply, not lifting his eyes from the dancing flames.

"I know," Hermione responded simply. She didn't want to go back to the common room, but she didn't have the words to tell him that.

Without a word, he stood from his seat and motioned for Hermione to do the same. Snape began walking towards the door of the room, but Hermione hesitated by the fire.

He tilted his head in question, refusing to speak in the firelit room.

"He'll be in the common room, I know it," Hermione said softly, her eyes downcast as she just stared at her feet.

Snape nodded in understanding and stood still as he seemed to consider his options of what to do with her. Hermione was holding her breath, terrified he'd make her go back to Gryffindor Tower, back to McLaggen. She couldn't face him twice in one night, and she hated the thought of being moved from the quiet room she inhabited.

Snape said nothing but produced his wand, silently transfiguring one of the leather armchairs into a small twin bed. Hermione couldn't hide the expression on her face at the sight of it; he was going to let her sleep here.

He looked at her with a silent question, and Hermione nodded. He strode off towards the door that she was sure opened to his quarters. For the first time in hours, Hermione was truly alone, and she let out a trembling breath. She couldn't bring herself to undress any; it felt so improper with Snape just beyond the door, so she tucked herself into the bed he'd made entirely clothed except her shoes. She stared into the flames as she fell asleep, the tingling on her wrist dulling as she relaxed.

oOoOoOo

"Miss Granger."

His voice woke her, and she sat straight up in the bed. For a brief, blissful, moment she'd forgotten the events of the previous night, but she was unable to ignore them upon waking up in Snape's sitting room.

"Miss Granger," Snape repeated, this time more insistent.

"Yes?" Hermione asked her voice heavy with sleep.

"It is still early," He noted, "You may wish to return to your dormitory before anyone notices your missing."

She only nodded, trying to untangle herself from the sheets of the bed she'd slept in. Hermione couldn't see the sun from their place in the dungeon but trusted his assertion that she should return to Gryffindor Tower. She hated to think of the gossip that would circulate if anyone saw her slipping out of the potions classroom in the early morning hours. She loathed the thought of possibly putting Snape's position in jeopardy.

When she had finally smoothed her wrinkled uniform to her liking and slipped her shoes back on, she noticed him sitting in the remaining armchair sipping on a cup of tea. He rose as she did, and they both headed towards the door that led to the classroom, Hermione stopped short, and he looked at her curiously.

Without saying a word, she launched herself at him, pulling him into a tight hug while he stood stiffly in her arms.

"Thank you," She whispered, sure that he could hear her in the silence of the room.

"Hex him if he ever touches you again," She swore she heard him respond, but when she looked up at him, he was staring at her with a cold indifference that made her jump back. Hermione swore he'd spoken, but he gave no hint of it. She immediately hurried out of the room, off towards Gryffindor Tower, scared to look back at him.

She spent the next few hours agonizing over her far to intimate gesture towards him as she tried to ready herself for the day. None of her roommates even noticed she'd been missing, and just assumed she'd slept in her bed as they all woke up to her changing her uniform. By the time she'd entered the Great Hall for breakfast, Hermione had concluded she'd imagined his remark, it was the only explanation.

"Why is Snape staring over here?" Ron grunted as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth, not noticing Hermione tensing at his words.

She slowly turned over her shoulder, hoping it would look ordinary, and she caught his gaze. He was looking directly at her with a look akin to worry, and Hermione wondered if maybe she hadn't imagined what he'd said that morning.

Later she was sure she hadn't imagined it when Snape gave McLaggen two weeks' worth of detentions with Filch as punishment over a simple misunderstanding. She knew he saw her smile, and she caught a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth. The closest she'd ever seen to a smile on her Professor's face. Maybe, just maybe, there really was more to her Professor than anyone thought. And Hermione couldn't lie and say she didn't feel a swell of pride at the thought that she was the only one who noticed.