The rain had not stopped for three days.
It drummed against the grimy windows of the hotel like impatient fingers, turning the narrow alley outside into a river of reflected lamplight. The building smelled of damp wallpaper, old tobacco, and the sort of hopelessness that settled into places forgotten by everyone except those with nowhere else to go.
The room itself was little more than a box.
A narrow bed.
A crooked chair.
A wardrobe missing one door.
Water stains spread across the ceiling like dark continents.
She sat at the small desk, calculating the remainder of her money for what must have been the tenth time that evening.
The answer never improved.
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Only one person in Britain possessed the particular talent of entering a room as though it had personally offended him.
"Professor?"
Snape stood in the doorway, rain glistening on his black coat.
His expression darkened further as his gaze swept across the room.
The stained walls.
The damp sheets.
The cracked window.
The single suitcase.
His jaw tightened.
"What," he said at last, "is this?"
She blinked.
"A hotel."
"I am aware."
His voice dripped with disdain.
"I was referring to why you are living in one."
The answer was obvious.
Umbridge's interference at the castle had left many people scrambling. She poisoned the castle enough . Positions vanished. Opportunities disappeared. Recommendations became worthless if the wrong person signed them.
She looked away.
"I'll manage."
A dangerous silence followed.
Snape stepped further inside.
The floorboards creaked beneath his boots.
"No."
The word was quiet.
Final.
"No?"
"No."
She frowned.
"Professor, I don't recall asking permission."
His eyes narrowed.
"And I do not recall permitting my former assistant to dissolve into poverty inside a fungus-infested cupboard."
"It's temporary."
The wallpaper behind her chose that moment to peel away from the wall.
Snape stared at it.
Then at her.
His expression suggested he had just won an argument.
"I see."
The rain rattled against the glass.
Neither spoke.
Finally he removed a folded parchment from his coat.
She recognized the seal immediately.
The wizard castle.
"What is that?"
"Employment."
She looked up.
"What?"
"You require work. I require assistance. The arrangement is hardly revolutionary."
For a moment she simply stared.
"You came all the way here because of that?"
His gaze shifted toward the window.
Toward the rain.
Anywhere except her.
"You were not answering correspondence."
The answer was suspiciously inadequate.
She knew it.
He knew it.
Neither commented.
The room seemed smaller somehow.
Colder.
More miserable under his scrutiny.
"You can't seriously expect me to leave tonight."
Snape looked around once more.
The damp ceiling.
The mold creeping along the corners.
The lock that appeared capable of being defeated by a strong breeze.
His expression became murderous.
"I expect you packed twenty minutes ago."
"Professor—"
"No."
The word cut through her protest.
For an instant something flashed behind his usual irritation.
Concern.
Raw and unmistakable.
Gone almost immediately.
"You are not staying here."
His voice softened only slightly.
"A woman alone, unemployed, with no money and nowhere permanent to go attracts precisely the sort of attention I would prefer not to read about in tomorrow's newspaper."
The room fell silent.
Rain whispered against the window.
At last she folded the contract in her hands.
"Are you worried about me?"
Snape looked genuinely offended.
"Certainly not."
A pause.
Then, more quietly:
"Finish packing."
And despite everything, despite the rain, the ruined career, and the uncertainty of the future, she found herself smiling as Snape stood guard beside the door pretending that was not exactly what he was doing.