Glass Half Empty

Chapter One

Looks like he isn't home tonight. Again.

An exasperated sigh left the witch's lips as she glanced out of window and into the rain. The summer showers had been frequent this year and she wanted to believe that they were the reason for her fiancés absence, but she knew better.

She glanced up at the Burrow, which seemed lifeless. He couldn't be there, otherwise it'd be alive with activity and the shouting of one Molly Weasley would be heard even through a closed window a good hundred yards away. No, he hadn't returned because he knew he didn't have to. When he became the new seeker for the Chudley Cannons, fame and fortune was not expected. However after catching the snitch in his second match and eventually leading the Cannons to victory in the League Cup, Ron's popularity soared and Hermione's importance in his life slowly diminished. He was a highly demanded celebrity and spent his time surrounded by others of similar popularity.

She was still here, of course. She always would be. She loved him. But she knew about the other girls, and it did tear her apart. She thought it was unfair; it shouldn't have ended like this. Three years after Voldemort was defeated and she felt as miserable as ever. The honeymoon period was over, they settled in his family's back yard and little else has changed for her. Going to work at the Ministry in a secretarial role in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a job she despised, then returning home where she wasn't needed.

As the hot prickling at the corners of her eyes began, she vanished the meal she had prepared, knowing it would be no good in the morning. She glanced above the fireplace to the clock, but her eyes glued to the pictures underneath. One of her and Ron, shortly after the war ended, outside the Gryffindor common room. Another of the 'golden trio' as they were so often called, during their second year at Hogwarts. One of Teddy, George, herself, Ron, Harry and Ginny. They had all moved away. Everyone else was happy.

Well, except one.

At his initial trial it was made quite clear that despite his good intentions, a death eater is a death eater, and the killing of one of the greatest wizards of all time was too much to overlook. He was spared the kiss, but will spend the remainder of his life in Azkaban, despite the protests of those who knew his true intentions. There are still appeals, something she involved herself in greatly, to get his sentence reduced or implore for his freedom. But as he refuses to attend such trials, little consideration is given. In her opinion he truly does deserve freedom, however he knows that nothing lies for him on the other side of the bars. Many still view him as a traitorous coward and ruthless murderer, with many thanks going to Rita Skeeter and her fantastically false recollections of events that was bound in leather and became one of the fastest selling books in the wizarding world.

He refused visitors and she knew he wished he had been left to bleed to death. Dying is freedom from the suffering of the living. She knew this, as she thought about it herself. She associated more with someone she never thought she would, and she wished she could speak to him, just to hear from someone else who was suffering. Surely there had to be a way to see Snape without his refusal. She would have to look into it.

She doused the fire, knowing it was no use to stay up much longer. Climbing up the stairs, she couldn't help thinking that it had only been three years, and yet things had changed so much. During the war she was almost certain she wouldn't make it out of the other end, but now she had it was so unwelcome. These thoughts made her feel remorseful. Knowing that so many had given their lives, close friends and iconic figures to her as a teenager, but she still wasn't thankful. She was stuck in a rut, and did not have the energy or will to force herself out of it.

As she entered their bedroom, Crookshanks hardly acknowledged her presence as he stayed curled up on the bed. Indeed, this ginger certainly had more use of the bed than the other ginger who may occasionally occupy it. The prickling started again, along with a tightening of her throat. This time she didn't attempt to push it away, letting the tears fall.

It was selfish pity. She knew it. Without bothering to change, she climbed into her bed and prepared herself for the next few tearful, difficult hours.

'Absence and death are the same - only that in death there is no suffering'.

CLANG!

Jolting up from the bed, Hermione Granger grabbed for the wand under her bed. However after seeing the light peep through the curtains and hearing a very poorly chosen swear from a voice downstairs, she rolled her eyes and plopped back down onto her pillow. The night before was a fairly regular occurrence regarding the deterioration of her emotional state, but in the morning she was always competent enough at covering her feelings, and is ready to face another day. But surely five more minutes in the comfort of her duvet wouldn't hurt.

"Hermione! Can you heat this up for me?" No, learn to cook you stupid oaf. Despite her body's protests, she climbed out of bed. Five minutes certainly would hurt in this situation. Leaving him to cook for himself would almost certainly lead to some part of the kitchen being completely decimated. Not bothering to change into a fresh set of clothes (he was unlikely to noticed their rumpled state), she headed down the stairs, a feeling of despair washing over her as she caught sight of him. Quite clearly hung over with muddy trousers and messy hair, he had obviously had a raucous night, which he will now describe with great detail and emphasis on how awesome it was (omitting, of course, some detail). He had also somehow managed to knock all of the pans and bowls onto the floor, some reaching a commendable distance being halfway across the living room.

"Oh my god Hermione, you ain't gonna believe the night I've had! We went all over muggle London getting absolutely wasted! The nightclubs were packed and we just kept going around. Seamus got so wasted he chundered in this girls lap, it was funny as fuck! Then we stayed in Kokos for a good few hours where he passed out, but we just kept on partying! It was awesome!" Hermione listened and nodded, giving the occasional smile when he laughed as she collected the pans and put them back in the cupboard. Her eyes fell onto what he had chosen for his breakfast, interrupting him in mid-sentence.

"Spicy chicken for breakfast? Really?"

"Yeah, why not? Only had a kebab at about 2 while Seamus was leaning over a drain, been ages since I ate!"

"Yes, but it isn't really a breakfast food, and you really should be watching what you eat and drink a little more, this excessive alcohol consumption and take-away food diet isn't healthy for you" He gave her a confused look, which in his current state made him look like a four year old playing in a park being suddenly challenged with a difficult arithmancy equation.

"What's a take-away?"

"Oh, it's the sort of food you get from those seedy little kebab shops when you go out, it usually has really poor quality ingredients and tends to be very fatty"

"Yeah, but it does taste nice! Besides, I'll be able to burn most of the fat off at training later today! I'm gonna take a shower while you make that, then I'll eat and have a nap, can't be going to training still pissed!" Without waiting for a response, he trudged up the stairs, and Hermione caught a waft of the pungent scent he'd brought home with him; a mix of alcohol, sweat, and sex. She wished he had never discovered muggle leisure, unfortunately on turning 18, Seamus was excited to go out to overcrowded nightclubs and get drunk to the point of amnesia, a common muggle tradition in young men and women. As she fried the contents of the muggle food packet (Ron was rapidly getting comfortable with many muggle amenities and products), Molly Weasley entered through the kitchen door, hands full with Ron's quidditch uniform. Molly was incredibly proud of her son's achievements, and found great pleasure in washing his clothes, managing his money, organising any correspondence… anything that she could really in order to help her son. Her weary face did show signs of sadness: all of her children had fled the nest now, and she clung as tightly as possible to those she could, Ginny appearing almost every day and having her son and future daughter in law living in a newly built house nearby.

Molly plopped the uniform on the kitchen table and sniffed. "Oh dearie, that smells delightful! Is Ron home?" Her expression betrayed her words, and Hermione knew it was likely that Molly agreed with her on the rules of appropriate meal foods.

"He's just in the shower, he went out with Seamus, Dean and some of the quidditch guys last night in London"

"Oh no, he didn't apparate back did he?!"

"I believe so". It wasn't unknown to those who knew Ron that his apparition skills were not great. Even when sober he occasionally splinched a toenail. Apparating while drunk was quite dangerous, even for very competent wizards. It wasn't unusual for small articles to appear in the Daily Prophet about witches and wizards of all ages who underestimated their lack of clarity while inebriated, and had been found dead (or sometimes, unfortunately alive) with severe injuries, amputations of arms legs and even heads. But as of yet no severe casualties had occurred with Ron or any of his friends, but this of course would not stop Molly from worrying.

"I really must talk to him about these things; he needs to stay in tip-top shape! He has weeks of interviews coming up, with training too for the League Cup in October, he really ought to be more careful! I really wish Harry would go out with him, just to make sure that he stays safe. It's not that I don't trust Dean and Seamus, but Harry is so much more level-headed".

"Indeed. Harry just isn't fond of the party atmosphere, he'd much prefer to stay at home with Ginny. He's much warier of the publicity than Ron and is trying to keep a much lower profile. They both came yesterday but I was at work, how are they?" They hadn't been as close as they used to be. Hermione had closed herself off from others with the current situation, because she didn't want them to be too concerned. She had taken to burying herself in work and rarely attended the social activities that were organised.

"Oh, they're well as always. Harry said he would visit you at work today. He has desk duties for the next couple of weeks; he's just finished training a new set of aurors, so he's taking a back seat for a while".

"Oh that'll be nice to see him!" The chicken was now ready and she emptied it into a bowl, cleaning and putting away the pans used with a flick of her wand. With no Ron in sight as of yet, she knew she had to head to work. "I really have to go, but Ron shouldn't be long. Hopefully I'll see you later today" Looking out of the window and deciding against a coat, Hermione grabbed her umbrella and satchel.

"Oh of course, you should come over for supper! When Ron has finished training he could tell us all about how he's preparing the team!" At hearing the offer, Hermione groaned within. Oh that will be fun.

"That sounds delightful." With that she exited, and headed to the apparition point. It was decided that even after the war, keeping wards up really was the best thing.

Well today should be a really enjoyable day, as usual. Then Hermione recalled her thoughts from the night before and realised today could hold some hope. She was well ahead of work, and could spend a few hours formulating a plan to visit Severus Snape. Maybe if she couldn't find a way to force a visit, she could persuade him to let her see him. It seemed a long shot, but it was something to aim for.

Having now snapped out of the deep despair from the night before, she realised some may see her as insane for being so keen to see him. Even Harry, who had fought for his freedom and was very thankful for his help saw little use in trying to contact him; he was still grouchy Snape to most. But she knew he was the only one who would understand, who could empathise with the emptiness and hopelessness she was feeling.

There had to be a way, she thought as she reached the end of the wards. She sighed and a rare, genuine, flicker of a smile came across her face. It felt nice just having something to look forward to. Turning on the spot, she apparated, leaving that smile behind.

All stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read J I hope you enjoyed it, first chapters are always difficult to write as you have to fit in the very basics of what is occurring, especially in this case with so much changing from the end of the war with Voldemort. I have a fairly good idea of where the story is headed, and so my updates should be somewhat regular and imagination permitting significantly longer. I am always appreciative of feedback and so any note would be much appreciated. If there is a high demand for something or a particular line of thought dominates my mind, the storyline could change course significantly, so if you have anything you think would be awesome, let me know. Thank you!

P.S. Quotes from songs and people are something I like to fit into writing, as you will quickly gather. I find they help to set the mood.