Scattered (Book 1)

Summer Heat (14)

We miss u Harry <3

Hermione hid in her room almost the whole next day, avoiding the possibility of running into Snape, of facing the uncomfortable thoughts that being around him brought up. Instead, she went through her bag, putting clothes away in drawers, tossing bits of rubbish into the small waste bin near her bed, but leaving a good amount of survival necessities hidden within, not so optimistic that she was willing to unpack entirely, and risk losing everything if they needed to run again. She heard Snape coming and going from his room several times, but didn't dare peek out to see what he was up to. She lay on her bed, idly wondering if he'd yet turned his room into a colorless void. Would he dare, in someone else's house?

After too many hours of sitting around, organizing and reorganizing her drawers, she could pretend to be busy no longer. She cracked the door open, and peered out, checking that the coast was clear before she snuck past his door, and down the stairs. His bedroom door was shut tightly, and didn't open, though she kept glancing back at it, nervous. She felt almost more embarrassed for running away than she did for letting him see her stark naked, and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to say when she saw him again. Was she supposed to ask about their Occlumency lessons? Tiptoe around the growing adoration he felt for her, or provoke his anger to avoid chatting about what had happened last night? She just wasn't sure, and as she secreted her way to the kitchen, she let her mind run wild, turning over possibilities, mapping out possible happenings.

"Oh, Miss Granger! I wasn't sure if you were out of bed or not."

Hermione jumped nearly a foot in the air at the voice behind her, spinning to see the not-quite familiar wizard who'd allowed them into his home.

"Yes, yes, I've been unpacking a bit, cleaning up..." She yammered, feeling as though her heart were about to beat out of her chest with the fright. She could read the worry on his face, matched by the concern in his thoughts as he looked her over, noted her darting eyes, the defensive way she held herself.

"I was wondering, would you and your... friend be willing to help out around the house a bit? I have the refugees helping out when they're around, but it's such a large house, I find it difficult to do it all myself these days." Shroge entreated, his hands in a supplicating gesture. Hermione noticed that his fingers were covered in dirt, and she glanced from the hallway to the back door.

"Were you working in your garden? I'd love to help." She agreed, anything to get out of the house, away from the possibility of running into Snape alone between rooms. She followed the wizard outside as he chatted at her, telling her the ins and outs of his small garden, what he was growing, the complications of the rootweed that was terrorizing his tomato plant.

Hermione threw herself into the task of digging up the noxious roots, tossing them into a bucket before they could burrow back into the earth and destroy the garden. She worked tirelessly, ignoring the dull sun that tried to shine through the clouds, hoping for the rain that might lower the blazing temperature beneath those clouds, and wash away the sweat that dripped down her face.

Eventually, she was forced to relent, her thirst getting the better of her, she excused herself inside, wiping her forehead, and tossing the dirt-covered gloves aside. She valiantly tried to dust her pants and stomp the dirt from her shoes before she entered the house, but she felt it was a lost cause. She might as well consign herself to be covered in earth until she had time to shower. She'd just have to sweep the kitchen floor later.

She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and filled it from the tap, chugging it down as she stared out the glass doors that displayed the large back yard, and tall fields of grass that surrounded the house. She could just barely see the edge of the garden, and grumbled to herself as she watched a few of the rootweeds tumble from the bucket and begin burrowing back into their stolen home.