Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione was the only one of the so-called golden trio to return to Hogwarts for her final year.  I wonder who else is returning?  She thought, glancing around her in disinterest. It didn’t really matter to her. She wasn’t here to befriend people. She hated attention and she hated the sheeple who had come crawling out of the woodwork to bother her the second the danger was over. She had always been a solitary creature. Trauma and the thrice-damned press had made that so much worse. 

Idly swirling a fork through her mostly untouched pasta she glanced around the Great Hall again.  Ah, Malfoy came back then, and  Zabini  too...  She scanned the Gryffindor table quickly.  Nobody from my house though... that might be nice, I should have the dorm all to myself.  She might have enjoyed sharing space with Harry and Ron, but as they were both boys, and also not here, she didn’t want to share with anybody else. 

She spotted nobody who she was personally familiar with at the Hufflepuff table, and the Ravenclaws offered no returning eighth year students either.  I hope nobody merges us with the current seventh years... I’d hate being stuck in a class full of unknowns. I don’t want to get to know new people at all.  

Hermione completely ignored the speech given by Headmistress McGonagall. She was out of her seat and halfway out of the Great Hall before most people even registered that they were supposed to go to their common rooms now. The empty corridors were soothing after being stuck in the full yet empty, too empty Great Hall.  So many wixen dead and for what...  Halfway back to the Gryffindor Tower a huge orange cat appeared to wind around her legs. “Hey Crookshanks..." She muttered hoarsely; voice unused to the strain after weeks of being nearly mute. 

Picking up her familiar, she hurried through the portrait, eager to get to her hopefully empty dorm room. Being around crowds was almost nerve wrecking now.  I am a goddamn mess... How the fuck am I supposed to get through this year if I almost panic over merely being around crowds...  

Shuffling into her dorm room she immediately spotted the single poster bed in the now significantly smaller dorm room.  Oh  thank Morgana. I don’t know how I would have slept if I had been forced to room with those girls.  

She waved a hand nonchalantly over her trunk, which immediately started unpacking itself. It was mostly full of clothes, books and knickknacks. Hermione had long since learned to keep the essentials with her in her charmed beaded bag. Taking a few of her ward stones, she cut her hand and dripped blood on them. She tied a temporary ward to them, to shield her room. Her paranoia left her unable to sleep in an unshielded place. Maybe it wouldn’t save her if she did end up being attacked, but the ward would warn her. 

Sighing loudly, a whoosh of air escaping her lungs, she opened the window, enjoying the late summer breeze that tousled her hair lightly. Lighting a cigarette, she stared at the almost endless expanse of the sprawling Hogwarts grounds.  This... is going to be a really long year.   

Guiding a spark of magic through the inhaled smoke, she breathed out a detailed white dragon. Watching it rear up and roar before fading she sighed, turning away, already tired.  Off to bed then...      

Hermione woke up in a foul mood.  Another night, another nightmare...  Gathering her books she wrapped her magic around them to apply the featherlight charm before stuffing them all into her slightly extended bag. She only just remembered to stick her wand through the bun she had thrown her hair into. She didn’t use it much anymore, unwilling to ever be helpless or disarmed again. She had worked incredibly hard to master as much wandless magic as possible.  Dragging around a piece of wood to cast magic... Ridiculous. Wixen are magic...  

She dragged herself down seven flights of stairs.  It is six o fucking clock and I... am awake. I bloody well hate this. I am sleep deprived as it is.  Almost stomping into the Great Hall she missed Professor McGonagall’s raised eyebrow at her uncharacteristic behaviour. Hermione had always been an early bird so why was she so... grumpy. 

Sulkily she settled as far away as possible from the few early risers who were already devouring breakfast. Seeing a familiar black brew steaming invitingly she sighed in relief.  Coffee... just what I need.  Spotting McGonagall coming over she almost sighed.  It’s not that I don’t like you, I just really don’t want to talk to anybody.  She thought grumpily. Unable to come up with a reasonable escape plan this early she plastered on a smile and greeted her professor.

“Good morning Professor McGonagall." The grey-haired witch nodded at her. “Good morning Miss Granger. I came to discuss your schedule. Or rather, your unique situation. You are one of three students who accepted our offer to come back to repeat their seventh year.” 

Hermione sighed,  I guessed right then, Malfoy and  Zabini  are the only so-called eighth years here, other than me I guess...  

The emerald green clad witch settled opposite Hermione with a mild sigh. With a few waves of her wand she raised a mild privacy ward. “I want to know whether you can work with them. Mr Malfoy was declared innocent by the Wizagamot, but he was on the opposite side of the war. Mr Zabini wasn’t involved at all so I suppose that you would have no problem with him?" The professor looked at her with her eyebrow raised questioningly.  

“I can work with both of them. They follow the same electives and core classes, right?" She asked, already mostly sure of the answer. She stirred another sugar cube into her second cup of coffee. Sipping at the caffeine she willed it to work faster.  

“Hermione..." Her head of house sighed, looking at her seriously. “If he makes you at all uncomfortable, we can find another way you know.” She said gently, trying to make sure that the girl was comfortable with her unique situation. She already looked so tired... too thin and fragile. So unlike the young girl she had been when she first came to Hogwarts. 

Hermione’s head jerked up from where she had been gazing into the liquid aimlessly. “It’s fine, professor. Really, he was more trapped in that manor than I ever was. I testified on his behalf, and we talked afterwards. I talked with all of the Malfoys actually." She grimaced briefly. “I can’t say that it wasn’t uncomfortable but all three of them seemed like people who were extremely trapped in their roles.” 

Looking her professor dead in the eye she continued. “They doubted they’d ever be welcomed by the so-called light side... and I agree with them. How many dark witches and wizards did the public drive into Voldemort’s claws because there was nowhere else to go? Dark shouldn’t mean evil." 

Slumping over, already tired and done with the topic she sighed, trying to swallow another spoonful of porridge, despite not feeling hungry in the slightest.  Do we ever learn?  She thought, almost mournfully.  

Her professor dithered slightly, uncomfortable with the blunt statement of her favourite student. “Yes well... I suppose you have a point." The older woman sighed forlornly. “I don’t even know how to begin to bridge the gap between the Gryffindors and Slytherins, never mind the so-called light and dark sides." 

Hermione grinned, a flat washed out expression. “You don’t have to, there are only kids here, if the houses get along for once, that should solve most of the problems plaguing Wizarding Britain when they grow up.” 

Allowing her spoon to clink against the china, she continued sarcastically. “Well, except the fucked-up incest problems common among the purebloods, but I guess we can’t have it all." 

The professor looked scandalized. “Miss Granger, language!” She snapped out.  

Hermione merely drank the last of her coffee. “I’m not wrong though." She gathered her bookbag. “Can I go now professor?" She asked, completely done with this much social interaction this early in the morning.  

The professor tapped a piece of parchment with her wand. “Here is your schedule, Miss Granger. You can go now.” Her eyes softened slightly. “It’s been good to see you again dear." She had missed her favourite cub. Though she was more of a lioness now. 

Hermione clambered over the bench. “You as well professor.” She echoed, before finally making her getaway. She dissolved the privacy ward with a single finger flick, leaving behind an intrigued professor. Wandless magic was so rare after all... 

Breathing in deeply when she crossed the threshold to the courtyard, she tried to contain her rising anxiety.  What’s the worst that could happen? There is no way anybody is going to attack me here. The wards have been  strengthened  to keep the students safe, I am safe...  

Shakily she lit a cigarette. Watching the cherry red glow in the faded light of the early morning sun which was steadily climbing into the sky. 

Hermione tried to breath in the cold air steadily, until she could focus enough of her magic to create a great rising phoenix. It flashed silver grey in the early sunlight when it finally rose high enough to escape the shadows of the courtyard. The magical smoke construct spread its wings before winking out in a swirl of smoke. 

Crunching leaves alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. In a flash she spun around, her magic conjuring a metal knife almost instinctually at the perceived threat. 

A boy with mocha skin, amethyst eyes and a green tie froze carefully. Looking unfazed but never the less remaining still like a statue beneath the razor-sharp edge of her blade. 

“Sorry Miss Granger.” Blaise Zabini said in a low almost cold voice. 

Hermione’s hand trembled minutely, before she dismissed the knife and she hid her trembling hand, a sign of weakness, in her sleeve. “Zabini, Sorry.” She muttered briefly. She resented the loss of control. She was always on edge now.  I am a fucking loaded gun, in a school full of impulsive kids. Why am I here?        

He flashed her an almost boyish grin. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have startled a frontline fighter." He briefly bowed his head. “I am actually here on Draco’s behalf, he wasn’t entirely sure that you would want to see him.” He stared at her with such intensity that it was almost creepy.  

They’re friends, and he desperately hopes that I don’t hate Malfoy, because I could make his life incredibly difficult, what with being a so-called war heroine.  The thought was impassive, she was just registering facts. There was no satisfaction at the thought that she could easily destroy her childhood tormentor’s life. 

Looking at the embers of the cigarette she dropped when she spun around to face him, she briefly concentrated, vanishing it. 

Zabini continued unasked. “We... are the only three who returned, so if you can’t stand to be in the same room as him, that might be a problem...” He stated carefully, trying to sound out her feelings towards Draco. 

Hermione’s gaze drifted past him.  It’s not even seven o’clock yet, is some time alone too much to ask? What classes do I even have today?  Zabini was pussyfooting around something which wasn’t even a blip on her radar. Draco Malfoy had never registered as a threat to her in the war, because she had seen him. He’d been a terrified, disillusioned child that day in Malfoy manner, and the first thing he had done was fudge the truth enough that Bellatrix didn’t immediately call Voldemort. Which was probably more important for her survival than all those useless so-called light wixen who had hidden behind their family wards.  

Casually lighting another cigarette by breathing a thin stream of flames over it, a trick she had learned purely for amusement she grinned stoically at his wide eyes. “I already told McGonagall that I have no issues with Draco Malfoy." Inhaling deeply, she continued. “Or you, for that matter.” 

Unconcerned about the awkward way he seemed to almost light up in relief she carefully threaded her magic through the smoke in her lungs.  It would be pretty ironic if I died of lung cancer just after surviving a war.  She grinned briefly at the bleak thought. She had developed a really black sense of humour. Glancing at the amethyst eyes of the awkward young man next to her she felt a brief flash of fondness for him.  

Just another kid trying to do his best for his friend, he seems so much younger than me.... He is younger.  Feeling inspired by the rare emotion she focused on her magic, trying to see, to visualize what she wanted. While she was breathing out the smoke it became an immense snake, Slytherin’s snake, which circled them once, twice, three times before fading. 

Her own boots now crunching leaves, she turned away. Incinerating what was left of the cigarette in a flash of blue bell flames which she willed to be briefly superheated, she left him standing there. “See you in class Zabini.” 

He watched her retreating back, stunned by the displays of incredibly advanced wordless and perhaps even wandless magic. But maybe even more so by the way she had seemed almost kind in a rough odd way. Even to him, a Slytherin. 

Potions...  Hermione stared at her blank schedule with disinterest, strangely enough it contained only one lesson.  It could be a lot worse. Snape won’t change much hopefully. A sycophant as teacher would be unbearable.  Thinking back to the crowd of so-called reporters (vultures) she had spotted from the window the day she had arrived back at Hogwarts via floo she almost shuddered at the idea of being stuck in a room with them. 

She knew that they had been hovering by the gate, looking for her. She had been relieved that she’d had the foresight to floo to the ancient castle instead of taking the Hogwarts Express. 

Regular teachers won’t have time for an eighth class. I wonder how that will be solved...  She thought it over before dismissing it from her mind, it wasn’t her problem. 

Checking if she had her potions book on her, she slowly wandered down to Snape’s classroom. 

Sitting down against the wall across the classroom’s closed door she pulled out a mystery novel.  It’s the gardener. The maid is a red herring.  She thought contently, while Crookshanks appeared and curled up in her lap. She flared her magic into a thin layer over her skin to keep herself warm. The once complicated piece of magic came easily now, after so many nights spend on watch in the snow. 

Winding her fingers through Crookshanks’s fur she scritched him under his chin. Repetitively she glided her hand over his spine, the motion soothing to her somewhat frayed nerves. 

The cat purred up a storm under her hand, the bond between them calming her hair trigger instincts down. Crookshanks suddenly started kneading her knee with sharp tiny claws, pulling her attention from the book. Then he jumped down to the stone floor, once more rubbed his head against her palm and trotted off.  

The exact moment that his tail disappeared around the corner Snape appeared out of the classroom. He looked down at her slumped over form. “Come in, Miss Granger." He stated impassively. She clambered to her feet to follow him into the room. 

Hermione sat down at one of the tables near the back, with a clear view of the entire space. She calmly flicked over the page and started reading again. The two waited together in easy silence.  

Zabini and Malfoy came in together. Sticking her book back into her bookbag, Hermione rested her chin on the bridge formed by her hands and stared at the professor. “Your class is going to be different; it is the first time ever that Hogwarts has a parallel class. It is also the smallest class."  Snape has a nice low voice. Soothing.  She thought whimsically.  

“The teachers don’t have time for another class. We all consider you to be mature adults, so none of us are going to be taking the role of policing your actions." He stated calmly. Almost disinterestedly. 

I wonder where he’s going with this...  He looked at the three calmly. “I will stop teaching the lower years. I’m only teaching the sixth and the seventh years which will free up my time. I always intended to stop teaching the lower years, and now that Dumbledore is dead it is finally possible. Minerva promptly signed off on it." 

“Which means that in your unique case, I will teach all of your classes. Since I am the only teacher with enough time. It is possible because I happen to have high Newt scores in all of your classes. Luckily you all chose the same electives as I did." Glancing at each of them in turn he continued. “We can provide rooms with a small common room if any of you feel uncomfortable with your old housemates."  

His eyes seemed to linger on the two Slytherins.  I wonder, are they ostracized or something? Why is he looking at them...  Hermione let it go, she had no more interest in solving puzzles. Not of this kind anyway. 

“I will be teaching you what you should have had the opportunity to learn last year. Nobody will be standing in loco parentis for you since you are all of age. You won’t have a curfew either." He sighed, taking off his robes, flicking them over his chair. Slumping down in his chair he casually rolled up his white sleeves. “I don’t plan to treat this like lessons at all actually. Nobody here needs to be spoon fed the curriculum." 

Hermione sighed. “Nobody has much left to learn, I think. How will you check though?" She asked aloofly. Utterly uninterested in appearing excited for the upcoming year. There was nothing left of the excited little girl she’d been in her first year. 

“Proficiency tests." The professor answered shortly, though not unkind. “Basically, you are going to take last year's Newts and if there are any gaps in your knowledge, we’ll work on fixing it."

 “Alright." She stated. “Is there a minimum amount of time we’re legally required to attend classes?"  

Snape nodded. “Yes." He sneered briefly. “Despite the unfortunate end of the Ministry’s last attempt to interfere with Hogwarts, they have stated that all students have a minimum attendance rate of 4 hours per week day. I don’t know what they are hoping to gain from that, but I suppose we will find out soon enough. It could just be another powerplay though. To show that they can still order Hogwarts around.” He looked offended and cross at the mere idea.  Small wonder that this irritates him, Snape has no patience for morons.

He gathered a pile of papers from his desk, then started handing them out. For once he didn’t bother with the more distant action of sending them out magically while he loomed threateningly near the blackboard. These three wouldn’t be intimidated anyway. They hadn't been for years. Quietly he relished in the fact that he didn’t have to be intimidating anymore. He had a choice now. His puppet master was dead. 

“You have three hours, don’t cheat etc." He said, sounding bored. Striding back to his desk he settled down with a book.  A paperback novel of all things.  Hermione noted absently.  I didn’t know he’s a fan of muggle literature.  She’d recognize The Lord of the Rings anywhere. 

Hermione handed in her stack of papers only 2 hours later, having filled in the Newts for Transfigurations, Potions, Charms, Astronomy, DADA, Herbology, History of Magic, Runes and Arithmancy.  I’m certainly never going to take Muggle Studies  again,  it’s horrendously demeaning how  wixen  view muggles and stupidly dangerous how ignorant they are about them.  She thought, mildly indignant and irritated even at the mere memory.

Returning to her seat she fished her novel out of her bag.  I wonder how many books I’ll need for entertainment this year. If we all pass, those four hours are going to need to be filled with something...  

“Miss Granger?" A low voice pulled her out of her book soon after. Snape was standing near her, radiating a sort of non-hostility while remaining at a respectful distance. It was soothing enough that he didn’t even trip her violent instincts even though he startled her slightly.  Then again, he never trips me up...  “Mr Malfoy and Mr Zabini are finished as well. You’re all allowed to leave now."  

Then he addressed the three of them. “Who wants to move to the smaller rooms near this classroom? You will be taking all of your lessons in the dungeons from now on.” He tacked on. 

Hermione immediately replied. “I want to take you up on that." She stated quietly, voice carefully blank. Not being forced to interact with large groups would keep the strain of being surrounded by people down by a lot.  I despise crowds, so if I can get out of the Gryffindor tower it will save me from a lot of stress. Gryffindors are always so nosy... and loud.  

The professor looked mildly surprised but then only nodded mildly. “Very well, I will show you the rooms and then you can move in whenever you wish.” 

Finally Malfoy spoke up for the first time. Carefully glancing at Hermione to check her reaction he stated quietly. “I want to move out of the Slytherin dorms."  Silly boy, if I had any issues with you, I wouldn’t be so passive in your presence.  She thought almost fondly. He had come a long way from the arrogant snot he had been when she’d punched him in their third year. 

In turn, Zabini pitched in as well. “I want to move as well. The peace and quiet will be much appreciated I suspect." He stated calmly. 

“Very well.” The professor said. Heading over to his desk to metaphorically armour up again in his robes before he headed for the door soon after. “Follow me then.” 

Hermione calmly trailed the man who swept ahead of them in a black whirlwind. The walk down the two corridors was calm and silent. Nobody felt the need to chatter, which was incredibly soothing to Hermione’s fraying mind.  

Abruptly Snape stopped in front of a portrait with a black cat on it. “Here we are, the password is paws, but you can reset it together at any point.” Then he said “paws” to the cat and the portrait swung open gently.  

Stepping in with the three students following like ducklings he made a sweeping gesture. “Home sweet home.” He stated almost carelessly.  Well he’s certainly much more relaxed.  Hermione thought almost incredulously.  Though I guess being a spy would weigh incredibly heavy on anyone’s mind.   

The room was cosy. With the couches all fluffy and the many carpets, it didn’t look like it could be found in the middle of the dungeons. Two doors branched off on the opposite wall of the entrance.  The dorms for the boys, and the other for the girls. Thank Morgana that I still get a room to myself. Otherwise I might not have left Gryffindor Tower after all.   

“It’s nice... cosy even." Zabini stated flatly, without a hint of irony.  

Hermione breathed out, trying to adjust to the idea of living with the two Slytherins for a whole year. “Yeah, it does." She agreed idly, mind spinning wildly.  They seem to be calm and even-tempered now, so I’ll be fine... Right?  

Snape watched the three of them standing around awkwardly in the middle of their new sitting room and then said: “Tomorrow 10 o’clock, in my classroom." Then he swept away abruptly like an overgrown bat, portrait clicking shut behind him. 

Opening the portrait to the common room, Hermione nearly shrank back from all the eyes suddenly staring at her. “Hermione, Hermione how have you been? How come you aren’t taking your classes with us?" A girl from what used to be the year below hers asked. “We haven’t seen you around much, is the new dorm at the top of the tower yours?" “Where were you this summer? The Daily Prophet ran an article that you were kidnapped, is that true?"  

Questions were being asked rapidly as most of the Gryffindors in the tower converged on their heroine. Hermione stared, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.  Who, why are they all, s-stay away... leave me alone please I c-can’t...  

“I, I have to go...”  She managed to say, then she fled up the stairs to her dorm, slamming the door shut behind her. Panicking at the footsteps she could hear, she started throwing up all of the locking charms and wards she knew. She flared her magic into an iron tasting curtain over the door, willing it to be impenetrable. 

Then, she sank to the floor in a shaking mess.  Breathe, just breathe, I have to breath.  She was breathing too fast, on the edge of hyperventilating. Desperately she tried to regulate her breathing pattern. 

It took ages before the wavy-haired brunette calmed down. Looking at her trembling, pale hands she clenched them tightly and stood up.  I have to pack, and I have to leave tonight. If they ambush me again, I can’t be certain I won’t have a flashback. That could be dangerous... For them.......  

Hermione was folding her clothes by hand, just for something to do, while her books and knickknacks sorted themselves into her trunk magically. Crookshanks came to wind around her legs, a calming warm sensation that she relished in. “Hey Crooks." She murmured, reaching down to glide a hand over his fluffy fur. 

Sinking down on the bed, she hugged her familiar when he jumped into her lap. The loud rumble in his fluffy body was a balm to her cracked mind. 

“What would I do without you hmm....” Crookshanks merely butted at her cheek, pressing a cold wet nose against her skin in his version of a kiss. Rubbing his head against her cheeks he finally flopped down into her lap, as if to say: well, you won’t have to find out. 

She started meditating, feeling safe enough now that her bonded familiar was keeping watch. Feeling her way through the cracked shields around her mind she sighed.  My panic attacks are creating a lot of hairline fractures... This is going to take ages to  repair.  It took her three hours to rebuild her occlumency shields, pouring the calm Crookshanks granted her into the constructs to steady her mind. 

By the time she came up for air, she felt a bit steadier. Waving a hand over her trunk she shrank it before putting it into her beaded bag. Doing one last sweep of the room to make sure she had everything she headed for the door. 

Hermione laid her hand over the enchanted wood, to reabsorb the magic she had cast. Then she disillusioned herself and silenced her footsteps. Pulling open the door as quietly as possible she peered around the wooden frame. 

Spotting nobody there she carefully walked out of the Gryffindor Tower. Her heart was still beating too fast by the time she reached her new common room.  

Opening the door to her own room, she nearly collapsed in sheer relief. It was easy to adjust her temporary ward for her new quarters, and soon she had re-cast it. Then she collapsed into bed. Wrung out by her anxiety. 

“So, why did you come back to school Miss Granger?" Zabini asked her faux-casually that evening, when both of the Slytherins had moved in as well. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?" Hermione asked, totally ignoring his question. She’d been ticking her nail against the spine of her mystery novel in an increasingly fast pace. She was starting to become somewhat agitated. Being stuck indoors, with no clear way out was already wearing on her. She was feeling trapped. 

“It’s fine by me, if it bothers me, I can just cast an air freshening charm." The Italian wizard stated calmly. 

“Thanks." She stated clearly, relieved.  

Hearing a door open behind her she was twisting around to face the threat before she even made a conscious decision. Spotting Malfoy coming through the door to the boy’s dorm she sighed, sinking back into the couch. Breathing in and out slowly, exercising her magic to create smoke constructs, she tried to calm her racing heart. Absently she conjured an ashtray on the side table with a wave of her hand. Zabini stared somewhat nonplussed at the casual wandless magic. Her focus had to be incredible if she could manage conjuration so easily without a word or wand. 

Ok, ok, I’m okay, it’s just Malfoy I’m not under attacked. There is no threat...   

When she was felt calm again, she refocused her attention on Zabini, she still hadn’t answered his question after all. “This year is being counted as our year seven. My parents payed for me to attend Hogwarts, so this gives me time to figure out where to go from here." 

Dragging a hand through her mahogany curls she sighed. “Free room and board basically." She said wryly, with a sad smile. 

Malfoy stared at her somewhat puzzled. “Why not stay with your parents while you figure out what you want to do?" He asked gently, not showing any derision for her parents at all. 

Hermione paled, feeling one of the boxes in the back of her mind starting to crumble. The memories that she normally tried to ignore poured out like poison.  

She saw her mom and dad right before she erased herself from their memories.  They had looked at her with such love and then when their faces had gone blank she had put them under a compulsion to go to Australia. She saw the gravestones when she finally tracked them down this summer. She hadn’t even been at the funeral. She hadn’t even known they had died at all... 

My fault, all my fault, I murdered them by taking their choices away. I took their free will. My fault...  Her hands were woven into her hair like claws, she was biting her lips and rocking herself. “My fault, all my fault..." 

Malfoy looked stricken at the sight. What had happened to reduce the strong witch to this state. He got up and approached her slowly. “Miss Granger..." She didn’t even hear him, just staring into the distance with glassy eyes. “Miss Granger.... Hermione.”  

Her eyes flitted back to his face. Malfoy only sighed lowly. “I thought that might do the trick.” He stated softly. “What’s going on? Did something happen to your parents?" He asked carefully, trying to figure out what set her off. 

“I killed them.” She stated without emotion. They could practically see her rebuilding her occlumency shields, it was like a switch had been flipped, smoothing all emotions from her face. Her body relaxed and she looked like a doll, blank, it was a very eerie sight. Then she got up and walked out of the room. Neither Slytherin saw her again that day. 

The next day found all three of them in the potion’s classroom again. Snape, dressed casually in a white button down and black pants gazed at them calmly. “You’ve all passed your Newts." 

“We’ll have to discuss how you’re going to fill the four required hours in this classroom. If any of you want some potions lesson at a higher level, I... would not be opposed." The brunet stated with only the slightest hint of reluctance. 

Hermione decided to take initiative. “I want to see if I can create spells that would allow electronics to work around magic." Before the war, before the battles, just... before, Hermione would have expounded on her idea. Going into details and generally looking like a very enthusiastic teacher’s pet. 

She merely looked apathetic now.  It might be a nice distraction; I do miss surfing the web sometimes.  She thought distantly. It didn’t really matter to her, but hopefully keeping busy would keep her nightmares at bay. 

Snape looked at her thoughtfully, then he nodded. “I don’t see why not, you’re allowed to begin training in spell creation now that you have passed your Arithmancy, Runes, Charms and Transfigurations Newt." He paused, before continuing with a sense of irony. “Officially you have not, but you know what I mean."  

He seemed to think it over for a minute. “I would prefer it if you run your calculations by me when you’re ready to move on to spell testing and if you wish, I can consult." He said, which seemed very reasonable to her.  He has already created his own spells, so if I make dangerous mistakes Snape would probably catch them. He’s certainly clever enough that the added angle could benefit me.  She nodded her consent. 

The professor then turned to his two other students. “Do either of you have any plans?" He seemed almost politely interested? Except polite was not a word generally associated with Professor Snape. 

“I want to work on a potion/spell combination to reverse curse scars." Malfoy stated quietly, but confidently. He seemed a little bit nervous to bring up a topic even tangentially related to Snape’s Dark Mark and Hermione’s Mudblood scar, but he was certain that he wanted to aim his efforts towards undoing some of the damage of the war.  

Snape seemed mildly surprised. “Well, I suppose it is a good start to trying to make up for you incredibly moronic blunders."  He said bluntly. Which from literally anybody else would have sounded judgemental and almost abusive, but from him just sounded brutally honest and dare she say it... kind. 

Then he turned to Zabini. “Mr Zabini, do you have any revolutionary concepts that you want to work on?" He asked dryly. For their supposed seventh year seemed to be turning into a research team in which he already had significantly more faith than most of his so-called fellow potions masters. 

Snape paused to revel in it for a moment. Faith... so foreign. 

“I don’t know." He grinned. “I don’t have a revolutionary idea lined up yet. I’ll think about it. I wouldn’t want to drag down the level of our class."  

“You’re thinking it through, I’d say we’re already the most intelligent and least frustrating class for the professor. Right?" She asked, cold amber eyes and a very very small though fairly genuine smile staring up at him. 

The man paused, a little surprised by the former teachers pet daring statement. “You all have brains and you use them." He stated dryly, perfectly willing to allow the more relaxed mood his students had set, they had always been some of his favourite students. “That’s like finding unicorns while looking for lame horses." 

This had all four of them grinning.  

It’s three o’clock, what am I even doing here?  Hermione though to herself, a little lost and somewhat confused on how she had even ended up in the courtyard.  

Waving a hand over a fairly large branch, she transfigured it into a comfortable leather chair. Conjuring a blanket to wear like a cape over her night dress she accio’d her book. Maybe she didn’t want to admit it, but she knew why she had ended up outside in the middle of the night.  

Catching her book and conjuring some bluebell flames, she settled in to spend the remainder of the night.  Better set an alarm, I don’t want to be found like this.   

Half a chapter later, Crookshanks jumped up into her lap. She was now curled deeply into the wide leather chair, cuddled into her blanket. Sighing she shook of her laser focus. Using the book marker to mark her page, she stared at the moon. Swirling her finger through the heatless flames she watched the blue ghostly flames reform for a moment. 

With Crookshanks in her lap, a warm and reassuring weight she finally, finally felt the anxiety from her nightmare starting to fade. Being outside, not feeling so trapped helped a lot.  

She was just flaring a flame over her index finger to light her cigarette when a dark shape appeared through the early morning mists. 

“Mis Granger." Professor Snape acknowledged her, briefly dipping his head in greeting. She merely nodded, somewhat nonplussed to be found like this, but not all that worried. She did trust him, he had more than proven himself to be an honourable and trust-worthy man. 

“Professor."  I wonder why he is out here so early?  He transfigured himself a matching chair, a respectable distance away.  

“You don’t seem like the type to smoke." He stated inanely. The statement contained a question, but phrased like this there was no pressure for her to tell him why. 

It was probably the only reason that she did answer that implied question. “Smoking reduces appetite.”  

He frowned, thinking about her peculiar answer, his attention now well and truly caught. “Reduces appetite, why is that a reason to smoke?" 

She glanced at him sideways.  Maybe he isn’t handsome, but he has a strong profile...  Her answer came out wry. “It helped with the hunger pangs.”  

She curled into herself a little more.  I usually hate talking about  what happened during the Horcrux Hunt ... but it’s not so bad with Snape, he knows how horrifying  war  can get.  

He hummed in understanding.  

They sat there in silence for a long time, it was only when the light first breached the courtyard that she stood up. She nodded to her professor with a tiny smile, then waved her hand to dispel her magic. She left in a whirlwind of fluffy grey fabric, blanket flaring around her like a cloak. 

“I will be teaching the sixth and seventh years on Monday morning. So we will have to set up a schedule for your mandatory attendance around that." Like he was prone to doing, Snape just started talking to them when they were all gathered in his classroom without any pleasantries.  

Some things never change.  Hermione thought almost happily. 

Malfoy spoke up, no longer quite as timid around her. “I vote that we only meet in the afternoons." The Malfoy heir looked wrecked, dark purple rings under his grey eyes and a small tremble in his hands that he didn’t hide quite quick enough. 

Zabini nodded. “I’d like to meet later on in the day as well." He grimaced. “There should be less people in the hallways then." 

At this Snape’s lips twitched into a brief smirk. “That is a solid reason. I don’t see any reason not to follow your ideas, Miss Granger?" He turned to her. 

“Yes, afternoons.” She nodded. She didn’t look so good either. Pale, with wrists still a hair too thin and purple ringed eyes she was starting to resemble a vampire. 

“How about 12 to 4?" The professor suggested. 

“That’s fine, are we using the same classroom as your other classes?" Hermione asked him distractedly, already blocking in her schedule in her planner. 

“No, since you will be taking all your classes with me and will likely start experimenting with projects that requite space for longer than a double period Minerva decided to locate your class in a small classroom near your new dorms.”               

He sighed, looking around the gloomy room. “She approved both of your research ideas. Then she basically laughed at me and said that it would be good for me to relax after assigning us a small private classroom." He said grumpily. “Apparently it has sunshine, unlike this prison cell." 

Hermione hid a smile behind her hand. “That does sound like Professor McGonagall."  

“Well follow me then." He swept out of the potion’s classroom with a flutter of black robes. His long legs eating up the distance quickly. 

Hermione hurried after the three men.  Stupid long-legged apes.  She thought almost resentfully, as the tall Slytherins easily kept up with the professor’s pace. 

Nobody was out of breath when they arrived, but Hermione now had a healthy pink flush on her cheeks. 

Snape opened the door, ushering them in. The room might be in the dungeons, but it didn’t look like it was. The magical windows were wide and tall, bathing the room in soft golden light. 

There were four desks and a group table with plenty of space. There was a bookcase taking up an entire wall and window seats with cosy pillows. 

“Will you all contribute to filling up that bookcase this year?” Hermione asked, almost in a daze. She could already picture herself curled up with a good book near the sunlight. It brought back a smidge of her old love for books, reminding her of better times. 

Malfoy nodded. “Yes, we can all take our own books back at the end of the year, but sharing them is a good idea. A wider pool to draw research from, and extra free entertainment.”  

Zabini looked at the professor. “This is really more of a magical research office then a classroom." He stated. 

Snape nodded. “Yes, you’re only students here because of a technicality. So we won’t treat you like students.” He said, switching to address Hermione halfway through his sentence.  “I will relocate the books from my office and some fiction.” 

He tilted his head up to the sun. “I will be marking work from other students here and creating tests for them so if any of you have friends among the student body, I trust you won’t help them cheat." 

Malfoy and Zabini nodded absently, they didn’t have any other friends in Hogwarts. Hermione nodded as well.  If anybody is too stupid to earn a decent grade, I certainly won’t be helping them. I’m done trying to help lazy cretins who only take advantage of me for answers.   

Hermione had already opened her bag, pulling several of her miniaturized full book shelves out. “Does anybody have a problem with Dark Art books? I might need them for research.” She asked softly. She flicked her finger to enlarge the shelves back to their natural state then started to put away her fiction books on the open shelves. 

“If none of the books are cursed, I can live with that." Malfoy stated simply, Zabini nodding his agreement. 

Snape looked at her curiously. “Now how did you get your hands on Dark Art books Miss Granger?"  

Hermione glanced back at him, his hair healthy and clean for once.  No protective grease, he must not be planning to brew anything today.  Flicking up a mild privacy barrier she mulled over her answer. 

“Harry wanted nothing to do with the Black Library, but Kreacher just about went insane when he mentioned burning the books. I said that I could take the books.” She shrugged loosely. “Harry was fine with that, he trusts me." 

Snape’s brows slowly rose. “And then you decided that you trust us," he gestured to himself and the two Slytherin students. “with Dark Art books? I doubt Mister Potter would approve.” He almost whispered it to himself, slightly incredulous that the petite witch would just stuff several shelves full of Dark Art books to be left within reach of known Dark wizards. 

“Harry wouldn’t, but then he was raised as a Light wizard who Dumbledore thoroughly turned against the dark." She sighed, peering up at him over the stack of books she was holding. “I’m still working with him on kicking out the last of his ingrained prejudice. He’s well aware of how screwed up he is and is actually making great strides in correcting it himself. He volunteered for therapy.”  

Snape nodded. “That’s good to hear, Mr Potter needs a lot of therapy." He frowned, aggravated. “Poppy, Minerva and I argued for it multiple times. Dumbledore blocked us of course, claiming he was a perfectly well-adjusted young man." 

Hermione frowned. “Yes that sounds like that senile man.” Her lips curled down in an unhappy expression. “I once mentioned to Professor Dumbledore that if wixen don’t start learning more about blending in, that technology would expose us all. He thought my fear was overblown, he might have sided with muggleborns, but he really had no respect for muggles at all. Which is very funny because he certainly thought like a muggle when it comes to dark magic.” 

She shrugged, a surprisingly liquid-like movement. Setting down her stack of books she continued passionately. “Muggles have always associated dark magic with evil. Which I think is very stupid but the church was very thorough in their defamation campaign against magic and dark magic in particular." 

 Then she grinned, a vicious expression. “That ignorance towards muggles worked in my favour though, I used a lot of muggle weapons and traps during the war. Wixen only ever scan for magical ambushes.” 

A minute widening of his eyes was the only thing that betrayed Snape’s surprise. “That was you then? There were a lot of deaths on the Dark Lord’s side by bullets, or spell fire when someone got mysteriously stuck on the spot. Bear claws if I’m not mistaken? Tripwires also and I think I spotted a few throwing knives as well?” Then he snorted. “The Death Eaters were convinced that the bullets were magical items. Cursed or enchanted or something." 

Hermione sighed, but her eyes held a tiny mischievous twinkle. “That certainly sounds like the inbred morons. Not that the Order of the Phoenix was any better." 

Glancing at Malfoy the brunette witch sighed. “Purebloods are really alike, dark or light, all of the wixen who grew up magical are really ignorant.” Biting her lip she stared at the dark-eyed man. “The atomic bomb, video cameras, sarin gas and drones. If muggles learn of our existence and they decide we’re a threat, wixen won’t survive.” 

At this Snape pursed his lips. “I know.” He said, nodding in agreement, stunning his female companion in the process. “I grew up in the muggle world, as I’m sure Mr Potter told you. I am well aware of just how precarious our position is. That’s why I offered to help you with your project.”  

He sighed, sitting down at the table, motioning for her to take a seat. “Miss Granger, if you succeed in shielding electronics, maybe we can educate at least the younger generation on the dangers of being caught on camera." 

She sank into the seat opposite from her professor. She sighed, nodding her head. “If we can create spells to wipe video evidence and teach wixen about electronics it should prevent our discovery and teach magicals how to blend into muggle culture.” Rubbing the bridge of her nose with a tired expression she continued. “Even if I would feel a lot better if the whole magical world was aware of the very real threat muggles pose.” 

Snape nodded in agreement. “So would I, but with the current doctrine amongst the pureblood faction it just isn’t likely.” He looked at his two snakes, who had taken over for Hermione in putting her books in the bookcase. “They might be redeemable though." He suggested dryly. 

“They’re well aware that you were a frontline fighter, so if you try to impress upon them the significant danger of muggle weaponry they should listen." He looked at her with a slightly deadpan look. “Should, Draco is still a Malfoy, reformed or not, the arrogance probably isn’t 100% stamped out." 

At this Hermione had to laugh. “I can certainly try, a demonstration of a gun should go a long way." Snape nodded seriously. “It would, Draco should recognize it as one of the number one causes of death on the Dark Lords' side and Zabini, well he is smart enough to be frightened by Draco’s fear." 

Then Snape looked at the slender brunette thoughtfully. “Miss Granger?" She looked at him, raising her eyebrows questioningly. “Yes?” He frowned. “Don’t overdo it. We might be able to contribute to a solution but this is in no way our problem.” His eyes softened. “We’ve both done enough for the Wixen World I think. Don’t run yourself ragged trying to solve all of their problems.” 

Hermione’s cold amber eyes softened. “Thank you.” She stood up, flicked a finger to down the wards and wandered over to the Slytherins. She didn’t say much, just started helping them with the books. 

“NO!” Hermione woke up in cold sweat.  No  no , no please don’t. It hurts...   

Grabbing her fluffy grey blanket and snatching up a pack of cigarettes along with her book she fled the dorms. Almost running outside in her panicked state. Trying to get away from her memories. 

Not even feeling the rough stone pricking at her feet or the cold air biting into her exposed flesh, she hurried to the courtyard.  Sky, I need the sky, I need to breath.  

Transfiguring her usual cosy leather chair out of a thick branch she nearly sank into it. Her knees unsteady and collapsing beneath her the second she stopped running. The adrenaline was slowly fading from her system. Leaving her weak and shaky. 

She didn’t even feel the icy trails of tears drawing silver moonlit stripes over her cheeks. She fumbled for her cigarettes with trembling hands. It took her three tries to work up enough focus to actually light one.  

When she heard something move behind her she turned around and attacked before she even realised it. A red curse streak splashed against a solid shield. “Miss Granger.” Snape’s low voice was calm but clear and she snapped out of her panicked state. But the damage was done. 

Oh god, I attacked a teacher, I attacked someone. Where am I going to go, I can’t stay here, it’s not safe for them. Maybe he deflected the curse but it doesn’t matter, I still attacked him... I can’t be trusted. Where am I going to go  now...?  

Hermione was starting to hyperventilate, shaking and curling up into a ball reflexively in her chair. Snape sighed, a low almost mournful sound. “Miss Granger...” it came out low and soothing, like he was trying to approach a wounded feral animal. 

He slowly walked up to her, making sure that she could see him. Her amber eyes followed him, huge and scared in her too pale face. Shaking hands clenched too tightly around her legs, face only halfway visible above her knees.  

Slowly, ever so slowly he reached for her. Setting his hands over hers he gently brushed his magic against her own sparking frightened core. It wasn’t done normally, too intimate outside of close friends and family, but he couldn’t think of any other way to jolt her out of her growing panic. She gasped low in her throat. Feeling the calm and steady magic of someone who she was familiar with, who was marked as safe in her mind.  

She slowly stopped shaking at the steady feeling of safety that his magic was radiating at her. “It’s okay, shh, Miss Granger, it’s okay.” He was holding her hands now, slowly rubbing his thumb over her cold tiny hands. 

Still panicked and not quite in her normal state of mind, she crawled into his lap. Her magic instinctively driving her towards the only source of safety she’d found in years. Snape only sighed, merely starting to drag slender long fingers through her flyaway curls. He hummed a lullaby at her, weaving a shroud of protective magic over her small shivering form and smoothing over the panicked flaring of her magic. 

He picked her up in a deceptively easy move, sitting down in her chair with Hermione curled into him. It took a long time before she calmed down, nose stuck against his collarbone and her hands clasped around one his. Leaning against his chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He finally asked. “I won’t judge you.” He added softly, and she knew it was true. 

“I’m so-sorry. I... I’m going to l-leave. I c-can't be here like this. I’m dangerous.” She stuttered out.  Where am I even going to go, I don’t have a home, no degree, no money... oh Morgana, what am I going to do....  

“No." Snape said simply, as if it was already decided. “You’re not going anywhere." Then he frowned for a second. “And don’t ever apologize for a panic attack. It’s not your fault.” 

“But I attacked you." She said, sounding like the words were torn from her. 

He sighed, familiar with the guilt and the panic. “No you didn’t. Miss Granger, you attacked before you even recognized me, and only because you were having a panic attack. You were only trying to defend yourself.” 

Patting her head very softly he continued. “Don’t worry about it, you did nothing wrong." 

Shimmering amber eyes looked up at him. “S-so I can stay here?" She asked, sounding for all the world like a scared child.  

He immediately nodded. “Yes. I’m not letting you go anywhere until you feel ready to face the world again.” 

She crumbled further into his frame in sheer relief. She trusted him, so it was like he took the burden of her shoulders by simply deciding for her. 

After sitting in comfortable silence for a while, he spotted the blood on her feet. Abruptly standing up he held her in his arms. She squeaked at her new position. He gently set her back down into her chair before he kneeled in front of her.  

Slowly picking up her small foot he magically vanished the dirt and gravel from her wounds before starting the healing process. Then he sat the small appendage back down on the cold grass and engulfed her other foot in his warm hands. When all of her small cuts were healed, he looked up at her stunned face. 

“Miss Granger, I am going to carry you back to your dorm, alright?" She nodded numbly.  

Sweeping her up bridal style, he tucked her blanket more firmly around her small too thin frame and then reversed her transfigured chair. He sat off for the dungeons in silence as she carefully leaned her forehead against him. 

As he slowly pulled his magic back into his core Hermione finally spoke up. “You can just call me Hermione you know." She said. “I think I’d like that, professor." Glancing down at her with a small yet genuine smile, he replied lowly. “You can call me Severus then, Hermione.” 

Ducking her head to hide her smile she finally succumbed to the siren call of sleep.  

The next night, Hermione headed towards the courtyard again.  I won’t be able to sleep again, so I might as well go and look at the sky. Something soothing to do before the castle comes back to life with all those strangers swarming the halls...  

She’d had another nightmare and even though Crookshanks had calmed her down, sleep had alluded her grasp ever since, like it always did. 

She entered the courtyard and spotted a dark shape. When she cautiously walked closer, she could see that it was Snape. He was slumped over into a chair, face pale and hands clawed into the fabric of his robes, as if he was trying to anchor himself to the present. 

She approached him while making sure to make noise. He didn’t even respond to her at all. Just kept staring at the sky. 

“Severus?" She murmured. “Hey, are you alright?" She asked softly, worried about his nonresponsive state. 

She gently touched his hand, covering his with her smaller one in a soft gesture. He still didn’t respond. Looking up at his face, trying to keep track of his reaction, she tried to touch his frozen magic with her own as softly as possible. 

Almost like weaving the lightest of mist over his ice. She saw him inhale unsteadily. Could feel his magic slowly starting to heat up and break away from its frozen state. 

She just stayed where she was, kneeling in front of him, holding his hand. 

It took hours, but finally, his magic had reverted to the warmer, darkly dense state she had first felt it in, calmly twining and weaving under her own shy touch. 

Finally, he looked at her. “Thank you." He said, looking wrecked, but aware now. 

Hermione merely smiled. “You’re more than welcome Severus."  

Transfiguring her own chair right next to his, she sat down. As inconspicuously as possible she kept holding his hand. Lighting a cigarette with the other, she stared at the sky.  His magic still doesn’t flow as smoothly as it should, but he seems calm now... I wonder what that was all about, panic attack? Catatonic? Dissociation?   

It was only when the sun once more breached the, their, courtyard that they got up. By mutual unspoken agreement they used the walk back down to the dungeons to gradually untwine their magic. He let go of her warm hand only when they absolutely had to part and nodded gratefully. Then he disappeared into another corridor. 

It was only a few hours later that Hermione stumbled her way into parts of her uniform. Dragging on knee length socks, a black skirt and a white long-sleeved blouse she called it done. Still tired and cold from her usual nightmares, she only hesitated a second before grabbing her fluffy blanket as well.  I don’t care if Malfoy and  Zabini  see me like this. They won't judge me... Right?  

Walking into the common room she sighed, “Tempus.”  It’s 11:30, I could go for lunch, but I don’t think I can handle being in the Great Hall...  she ignored the fact that she had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast by sleeping through it. Hunger wasn’t really something she could feel anymore. 

She plopped down into a chair, hiding under the blanket until only a sliver of her face was even visible as she curled up into a tiny ball.  I am so fucking tired...  She thought, trying to keep her eyes open. 

When only a few minutes later Malfoy sank down in the chair opposite hers. Instead of judging her though, he only sighed at the sight she made. Conjuring a blanket, he followed her example and also curled up in a small ball hidden under fluffy fabric. “You know what...” he started tiredly. “This is strangely soothing. It’s not like a fluffy blanket ever fixed anything but it still makes me feel a little better.”  Draco is kinder now...  

Hermione laughed a little. Then she stated, in a slightly hoarse voice. “Yeah, I know. It definitely shouldn’t help, but it really does.” She paused for a second, then stated almost cheerfully. “Even if we do look really silly."  

Zabini entered the room after some time, which they had simply spent in silence, both trying to hold it together after their nightmares. 

He only sighed. “Well let’s go then, I suppose I’m escorting two people today." He said, holding out his arms as if he was a gentleman escorting pureblood ladies to a ball. 

He looked surprised when Hermione rolled to her feet and really did take his offered arm. Flicking her fingers, she sent her blanket back to her room. “I’m ready."  He was neutral, he won’t harm me...  She tightened her grip slightly . He’s so warm... Why did I take his arm? Merely because he offered? Am I really so touch starved?   

Malfoy sighed, then he vanished his blanket and got up, pasting a neutral expression on his face. “Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner this day will be over." He stated grumpily. 

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. “We’re all impressively anti-social now a days." She said quietly. Zabini laughed, curling a warm hand over her cold fingers. “That we are. Because people are awful.” Hermione thought it over. All of them had avoided leaving their shared rooms. She hadn’t quite expected the Slytherins to be as reclusive as she was.  Then again Malfoy especially was in the thick of the war, it only makes sense that he also became reclusive and withdrawn. Trauma and ignorant  wixen  is a really dangerous and painful combination.  

Malfoy barked out a dry laugh. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me, that the public is being awful to you." He stated self-deprecatingly, as they left the dorms.  

Hermione took his hand, squeezing it gently. “No no, Zabini is right, it really is just because the general wixen public is stupid.” She looked at him with a gentle expression. “Forgive yourself Malfoy, you did your best in a really fucked up situation." 

Malfoy looked at her in wonder, like nobody had ever told him that he did well. 

“Hermione!" A voice suddenly shouted from behind her, causing her to twist around in Zabini’s hold. Spotting the youngest redhead of the Weasley clan she stared at the girl’s furious face. “What the fuck are you doing with them?” Ginny shouted angrily. 

Hermione nearly trembled at the raised voice and the waves of violent magic that the redhead was emitting.  No, no don’t hurt me.   

Clenching her hands, nails biting into her palms, she pulled on her occlumency. Slamming down shields around her mind to strangle the rising panic. “They’re are my classmates; we are going to our classroom.” She stated evenly. 

“They don’t fucking belong here.” The incredibly angry girl screamed, causing Malfoy to flinch almost imperceptibly. “And you were just casually going along with them. Touching them, talking to them, as if they aren’t horrible monsters." Her eyes were almost black with rage. 

The redheaded slender girl waved her wand, attacking the two Slytherins with a curse that, if it hit, would break bones. She didn’t even care that Hermione was standing there, too furious and upset to make sure she didn’t hurt her own friend. 

Zabini didn’t even think about it, he spun around to shield the girl on his arm. She didn’t deserve this, he saw her white, scared face and reacted on instinct. The dark purple streak of light slammed into him, and his vision whited out. “NNn..." He groaned out, ribs breaking under the malevolent magic.  

Hermione stared, wide eyed, at the kind amethyst eyes looking at her. Zabini slowly started to collapse, already falling unconscious from the pain.  No  no   nooo , no this isn’t happening. It was supposed to be safe here. The war is supposed to be over...  Her mental shields were crack, crack, cracking under the pressure of her fear... 

Catching the young man who had selflessly shielded her in her arms, she sank to her knees, she felt a jarring sensation as her knees hit the ground. She could feel her shields crumbling completely under the onslaught of her panic. Hermione stared at Ginny over Zabini’s limp body, the girl’s pretty face contorted by hate.  I don’t even recognize her....   

Zabini was a warm dead weight in her lap. She stared at the girl who was her friend... Ginny was still attacking, an orange curse flying over her head, sparking in her hair. It only missed her because she had collapsed to the floor. 

Malfoy stepped between them cutting of her view of the redhead, he looked stricken, but determined now. He would protect these two, these precious people who still believed in him, if it was the last thing he did. 

He raised a solid shield, weathering the attacks from the witch stoically. He couldn’t attack her without violating the Wizagamots terms, and didn’t even really want to, because he could see the grief in the set of her eyes. The way her sadness was written in the corners of her mouth. 

If it was just him, he might have let her do whatever she wanted... 

Snape stormed into the hallway. With a wave of his hand, Ginny’s wand was yanked from her hand. Catching the piece of wood, he rounded on the teenager, looking furious. 

“What in the blazes of hell is going on here?” The tall dark-haired man spit out. “Why were you attacking other students?” He nearly hissed at the slowly paling redhead. Then he completely ignored her to check that Zabini was still breathing and not in immediate danger. 

When he was satisfied that the Slytherin was as stable as he was going to get with his ribs broken, he glanced around the corridor. “Leave." He barked at the students who were still hanging around, stunned by the awful spectacle. 

Scared off by the intimidating man, who seemed to be enraged, they all fled. Leaving Hermione, Zabini, Malfoy and Ginny as the only ones left to face Snape’s wrath. 

Still too angry to back down though, the redhead fiercely bit out. “They don’t belong here, they should be in fucking Azkaban.” 

Snape was nearly apoplectic with rage. “Ah, so you think you know better than Miss Granger, who was actually held in Malfoy Manor and the Wizagamot who overheard him and examined his memories from every angle and decided to take justice into your own hands?” He said silkily, only sounding more dangerous for it.  

Ginny, only now becoming aware of just how much trouble she was in started trembling. Snape merely narrowed his eyes. “Do you know who that reminds me off, Miss Weasley?" He asked, sounding almost gentle, but she couldn’t mistake the question for being benign because of the way his dark eyes glinted with fury. 

“N-no..." The girl stuttered out. Snape almost glided closer to the stricken teen. “You remind me of Tom Riddle.” He stated softly, well aware of the cruelty he was committing, but needing to make this clear to the redhead once and for all, before she crossed a line she could never come back from. “He was very fond of prioritising his own judgement, his own feelings over everybody else as well.” 

“I’m nothing like him!” The redhead cried out. Snape merely gazed at her passively. “No, you’re not." He said. “But he liked hurting others and you wanted to make Draco suffer." He could see her turning even paler at the comparison. Good. “You looked a lot like him, when you were casting curses at Draco. Riddle didn’t care if he hurt others in his rage either, just like you don’t seem to care who you were hurting in the process." 

He sighed. “I am going to assign you therapy and detentions, instead of expelling you.” He stated. “Because I am well aware of what you went through, of how much you lost in the war.” Then his eyes hardened again. “But Miss Weasley," he said causing the relieved redhead to tense up again. “Make no mistake, if you ever attack somebody again in this school, I will see to it that you are persecuted by the full extent of the law. This is your only warning." 

The redhead nodded hastily, taking her wand from Snape before fleeing from his intimidating form. 

He spun on his heels, heading over to Hermione and Zabini. Malfoy was kneeling over the two, trying to heal the Italian. 

“Take Mr Zabini to the Hospital Wing, Draco." He said softly, weaving a stasis spell over the mocha skinned young man. The blond hastily nodded, levitating him and hurrying off. 

Hermione was still kneeling on the cold stone floor, frozen. Her eyes were glazed over and her hands were trembling. Snape kneeled in front of her. “Hermione..." He said softly, trying to get her attention. She only started shaking harder. “Hey, shh, it’s okay." He said, trying to calm the panicking Gryffindor. 

“I c-can't, I can’t do this. This can’t be happening. I don’t want to be here..." She whispered.  She terrifies me...

Winding her hands into her hair, she started pulling on the curls roughly, trying to anchor herself to the present moment. The pain was grounding, but she had no control over it, it didn’t even feel like she was the one in her body anymore. 

Snape gazed at the stricken young woman. He reached out, trying to gently uncurl her hands from where she had clawed them into her hair. “Hey no, you will be alright, you’ll be okay." He continued talking to her, trying to calm her down. Finally, when he flared gentle protective magic over her shivering form she collapsed forward, into his kneeling frame.    

She started sobbing as he wound strong arms around her. She became nearly hysterical and was crying her eyes out, unable to keep it in anymore. Snape only swept the young woman up into his arms. He carried her back to the dorms when she finally fell unconscious. Body giving way under the strain now that she felt safe. 

Hermione shot up from her bed, already starting to breath faster.  How could this happen, why would she do that... why?!!!!  Silver tears were starting to caress her cheeks again. She shivered and cried helplessly, taken back to the day Bellatrix had carved the slur into her arm. Ginny had looked just like her...  A pretty face, twisted by hate. Her magic had been so harsh... so hateful. 

“No, no please, no don’t..." She mumbled to herself, completely caught in a flashback. Body twisting into the sheets. Snape heard her cry out from the common room. His lips curled down, face sad.  He stood up and opened the door to her room. 

He gazed at the young woman sadly, who was crying and pleading. She was caught in her own sheets, wide open eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. He slowly sat down beside her, setting a cool hand over her warm forehead. Carefully he wound her up in his magic. Gossamer thin weavings of his slowly pooling warm magic caressed her skin. 

It felt like an eternity passed before Hermione became aware again. Feeling warm soft magic dancing over her skin, intimately twining through her own magic was so calming. She stared at her ceiling, feeling a warm hand wrapped around hers. She swallowed uneasily, feeling vulnerable and out of it. 

“Sorry..." She whispered, mortified to be caught like this by Snape. “Don’t apologize Hermione." He said gently, his magic whispering over her skin. “This isn’t on you. The generation before mine failed us all by not taking out Riddle decades ago." 

“But I keep freaking out and panicking." She said. Tightening her grip on his hand reflexively. “You fought like a soldier in a war and you had no training to deal with it." Snape said calmly. “Give yourself time to deal with that."  

“I... I know logically that I’m not doing anything wrong, that this is trauma. But it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like a failure." She whispered, like she was confessing a secret. “I know." Snape replied lowly. “But you’re doing amazing. You're not lashing out, or hurting others, or nearly killing yourself. Right now, this fresh from so many battles and traumatic events, that’s really all we can ask. Give yourself time to adjust. Soldiers returning from an active warfront almost always need help to readjust to civilian life you know. So, I’m telling you, you are incredible."  

She felt silent tears streaking down her temples at the kind words. “Thank you, Severus." 

Neither mentioned the magical tangle they had made of themselves; it was precious, fragile and new. It felt like safety, home. Neither wanted to draw the others attention to it, for fear of losing that feeling. 

Hermione spotted Ginny at exactly the same time as the redhead saw her. She could see her opening her mouth to say something and all she wanted was to flee. Maybe the girl was her friend, but the memory of flaring magic carrying hate, eating like acid at her own magical aura burned harsher than her fond memories could sooth. 

On instinct she turned around and fled. She just started running, spreading her magic behind her like a sonar, to warn of incoming spells. It had been a wartime tactic of hers and the fact that she felt like she needed it right now crushed her.  I am not being hunted, slow down, you’re okay. It’s just Ginny, she won’t kill you...  

Hermione tried to tell herself, but it didn’t help. She could feel fear clawing at her occlumency shields. Spotting the stairs at the end of the dungeons she cycled her magic through her limbs to make the jump up to the ground floor.   

Seeing Snape coming out of the Great Hall the memory of his magic and steady presence came to her and she ran straight to his side. Magic started running higher and increasingly taking over whilst her mind was being assaulted by her fear and memories. 

Spinning around to hide behind his back she leaned her forehead against his shoulder blade and threaded her fingers into the long black robe he always wore. Hesitantly her magic reached out in thin ribbons, brushing against his warm magical core, as if unsure of its welcome. 

Snape was somewhat shocked by Hermione’s uncharacteristic behaviour. When he felt the wavering strands of her magic reaching out, he reached for her. Weaving his own magic through the thin strands, he wove a temporary magical bond that anchored her back to the present moment. Providing a sense of stability and safety so she could find her feet again. 

The brunet male was about to ask why she was clinging to him, when he spotted Miss Weasley rushing in their direction. Hermione’s hands tightened their hold on his clothes. She was shaking and her magic was starting to simmer, like fear churning beneath the surface of a deceptively still ocean. 

Turning to glare at the approaching redhead he got a petty sense of satisfaction when she turned away with a disappointed look on her face. He reached a hand behind himself, taking hold of her hand and tugging her away from the doors of the Great Hall.  

Guiding her to the courtyard, he transfigured a chair and easily tugged the girl down into his lap. Winding his arms around her waist he sighed, setting his chin atop her head. “What am I going to do with you, Hermione...."  

She shivered, curling deeper into his larger frame. “I’m sorry, I just panicked. The memory of her attacking Zabini and Malfoy and...  and me, just burned, and I couldn’t trust her when she came towards me..."  

He merely brushed his magic over hers again. “That’s not on you. If you don’t want to talk to her, you certainly don’t have to. Miss Weasley needs to learn that her behaviour has consequences. Nobody can tell you that you need to talk to her." 

Hermione shivered, sad and lost. “Thank you." She mumbled out.  Is that really okay? Can I just avoid her, isn’t she my friend? Am I a horrible person if I do avoid her?  

Knocking hesitantly on Malfoy and Zabini’s door Hermione anxiously chewed her lip. Zabini had been healed, after spending a week in the hospital wing he was declared healthy by Madam Pomphrey and had finally returned to their dorm.  

“Come on in." A low voice answered. Gently she opened up the door, peeking around the corner. “Hey Zabini. I came to see how you are doing, and to apologize." Hermione looked down at her fingers, nervously twiddling the slim digits.  All my fault, I should have defended him... He got hurt because of me, I should have easily been able to stop an attack like that. Freezing up because it was Ginny is no excuse.  

Zabini stared at her thin form in front of him, nonplussed. “Whatever for? It’s not like you broke my ribs." He stated calmly. 

“I should have defended you, freezing up just because she was my friend is no excuse." His eyebrows rose over incredulous purple eyes. “Sure it is, first of all you are under no obligation to protect anybody. Second of all, that is a really good reason to freeze. Granger, anybody would be shocked by a friend completely losing it. Don’t be so hard on yourself." 

Is it really that simple? Am I just being  too  hard on myself?  

She stared at him uncomprehendingly. The idea that this wasn’t on her was hard to believe. “Now then, we have class soon, do you want to accompany me?" The Italian asked lightly. “Keep in mind that I won’t blame you if you decline, I understand if you don’t want to be seen with us again. This wasn’t a one off."  

“What?" Hermione blurted out. “Is it normal for you to be attacked?" He merely nodded. “That’s wrong. Why hasn’t anybody done something about this?" She asked, indignantly, a spark of her old fire resurfacing at the sheer injustice. “Professor Snape tries of course, but I believe that the rest of the Professors think it is our own fault. Nobody cares much for Slytherins and they care even less for known Dark Wizards." He stated calmly. Like this was a simple fact of life he had long since accepted. 

“That’s..." Hermione was speechless for a moment. “Dark Magic isn’t by its nature wrong, are they confusing Dark Magic for Black Magic?"  Why is common sense so rare in the  Wixen  World? Does magic excuse them from learning logic or something? I would have thought that evolution would have prevented this much stupidity...  

Zabini stared at her confused, Hermione was a known Light witch after all. “Huh?" He said. “You mean that you don’t find Dark Magic wrong and immoral and dangerous?" He asked her, stunned by the implications. 

She stared up at him, confused. “Of course not. Dark Magic is just like Light Magic. I could kill someone with a light spell, or heal with a dark spell." Then she raised a mocking eyebrow. “Actually, the most well-known dark spell is technically a light spell." 

“What?!" Zabini blurted out. 

“I can tell you the story later, but we have to go now. To answer your earlier question, yes, I am coming with you." Muttering under her breath as she started walking towards the door. “Discrimination based on Dark Magic, hah, idiots. If the Wixen World creates a new civil war with this stupidity I am going on vacation, whilst leaving them all here to die."  There is no way that I could survive another war without going insane...  

Zabini ended up hurrying after her angrily stomping form. He was utterly shocked by her vehement defence of Dark Magic. 

“So, your defence of Dark Magic. Aren’t you a Light witch, Granger?" Zabini prodded semi-casually when all three Slytherins and the one Gryffindor amongst them had settled into their chairs with a cup of tea. 

“Common misconception, I’m a Grey witch.” Hermione stated casually.  Light, grey or dark what does it matter at all...   

Malfoy’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “What?! But you’re hailed as the strongest Light witch of the century.” 

“Yes well, we all know just how retarded Magical Britain is.” Hermione said dryly. 

“The Black Family Library was really informative. Why don’t they teach about magical cores at Hogwarts? Political light and dark are being seen as equivalent to magical cores. But that’s wrong right? Dark Grey and Light are just natural magical leanings right?” She directed her question to Snape. 

He sighed, idly stirring sugar into his tea. “Dark magic is just a normal affinity. Like water or fire. But Dumbledore was against Dark Magic, he thought it was wrong and dangerous. He changed the curriculum; he was a War Hero so everybody believed him. It didn’t help that Grindelwald was a Dark wizard, and that he used a lot of devastating dark magic during the war. Everyone then conveniently forgot the light magic used to destroy entire sections of his army in one fell swoop." 

“Just when I think I’ve seen the last of that man’s mistakes something new comes up.” Hermione said bitterly. “So, Dumbledore screwed over half of the Wixen World then. And his prejudice still lingers.” 

“Yes, the whole British Wixen World is still prejudiced against Dark Magic. Which is stupid, you might as well be prejudiced against the night. Both are naturally occurring and there is nothing wrong with either." Malfoy muttered, irritated.  That would require logical thinking... That’s never going to happen...  

Zabini sighed. “At least half the problem is that Black magic is being shoved under the label dark. In Italy Black magic is a crime and a very distinct branch of magic. It’s seen as completely different from dark, which is commonly accepted." 

“I think I might move to Italy after graduation then.” Hermione said, only half joking. “I feel no calling to clean up Britain. It’s been hard enough trying to re-educate Harry. It’s not his fault, but his kneejerk prejudice is irritating. He tries very hard though. Unlike the rest of Britain.” She said, leaning back against the chair. 

“Lily was a Grey Witch and James was Dark.” Hermione snorted. “That changed his tune right quick. They fought on the so-called light side after all. After that he started reading up on it. He knows better now. Still won’t admit his own affinity though.” She pouted. “He’s just teasing me now.” 

 Malfoy looked shocked. “The things you learn...” 

Snape stared at the self-professed Grey witch. “You learned all of this on your own, from the Black library, during a war?” He seemed a little incredulous. 

“It is a good library.” Hermione said, a little defensively. 

Snape laughed, a low warm sound. “I’m just shocked and impressed, you managed to overcome the prejudice rife in the Wixen World, during a war, alone, just by reading a couple of books.” 

Hermione flushed, a soft pink colour. “Thanks, I guess..." 

Hermione shot up from her bed.  No, no please...  Still half caught in her nightmare, she scrambled for her blanket and her shoes. She wandered to the courtyard. When she saw Snape already present, she drifted towards him only half aware, mind still caught in flashes of memories. 

When her magic subconsciously brushed against his, familiar and soft, he seemed to snap out of his daze. Instinctively his magic reached for her, and his body followed. 

His warm dark magic twined around her wilder, less dense magic, her magic felt like a ghost impression of the deep currents of the ocean. Feeling their magic twining together in thick bonds Hermione slumped over against him, tension draining from her taught form. 

“Severus..." She whispered eventually. “What are we doing? We’re not family, we’re not even friends, so why does this come so easily, and feel so safe?" She asked, referring to their magical melding. 

He sighed, dragging a hand through his own hair. “I have no idea. It’s never been this easy.” Pressing a nose into her curls, he breathed in her calming scent. “You are half my age, it is strange that this feels like a meeting between equals.” 

Hermione sighed. “No I’m not. You are thirty-six right? I’m eleven years younger than you.”   

Snape looked at her, surprised. “Twenty-five? How did that happen. You were born roughly a year before Mister Potter right? Then you should be turning nineteen soon.” 

Hermione bit her lip. “Time-travel. My third year I had a time turner and I lived it twice. So I aged more rapidly. The trace sticks to underage magical signatures, so it was great that I came of age before we ever left on the Horcrux Hunt.” 

Snape sighed, settling an arm around her waist. “That only explains a year, two if you were admitted late because of your birthday. How come you are six years older than the rest of your year mates?” He asked gently. 

“We broke into the Ministry during our fifth year. The time-room was destroyed. I snatched the last unbroken time-turner.” She whispered. “I don’t even know why I did that, I just knew I couldn't leave it there.” 

“I don’t even want to imagine what Riddle would have done with a time-turner." Snape muttered.  

“It’s hard sometimes. I’m so much older than my friends now. The war was so long for me, Molly kept insisting that I stay with the Weasleys. That everything would be fine and that I was always welcome there. I think she hoped that I would take up with Ron or something.” 

She sighed. “We were only ever friends, and now he and Harry are more like my kid brothers or something. They are just so... immature. I feel so detached from everybody now.” 

Snape didn’t say anything. Didn’t make any attempts to smooth it all over. Her predicament was difficult, and it wouldn’t ever be magically okay. She had sacrificed her own wellbeing and the last vestiges of her childhood to the war. 

“I’m only here because I have nothing else in my life. Hogwarts was all I ever knew.” Snape said. “What a pair we make, a woman out of time and a man out of place. Maybe that is why our magic pools together so easily. Outcasts, the both us.” 

Hermione sighed against him. “That makes sense, magic has always been half intent. So, if our feelings echo closely, maybe that is why we have such an easy resonance.” Clenching one hand into his robes she continued, half formed thoughts spilling out between them. The magical theory came easily to both, and the discussion was one held between equals and maybe tentative friends.