Name: Quod Perierat [Roughly translated: "The Lost"]
Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romace
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Spoilers: I imagine all of the books. Though this is not Deathly Hallows compliant as Severus is still alive and the prologue will not exist in this story. Everything else is generally the same.
Trigger Warnings: Minor Abuse/Depression/Running Away

I own nothing. I am merely borrowing the characters and the world that the wonderful J.K Rowling created. This is how I stretch my writing muscle and I hope she doesn't take offense to what I do.


With the end of war is supposed to come peace. Sometimes the damage of war can leave marks we soon discover don't go away with victory. Victory is hard earned, but it is not the end.

The end is still years away.


Hermione Granger remembered the day they finally won the war. Victory had rained out and finally she was able to rest her weary bones. It almost felt like she had been fighting her whole life for that one moment. For a moment that was bittersweet and lost all to soon.

Of course the logical side of Hermione knew that the scars the war would leave wouldn't go away over night. They had fought for too many years to be that naive, but she had never understood just how hard it would be. The young bright witch had not understood how it would affect herself as well as the others she had fought alongside with. Not in the true sense.

Sorting through the deaths of others had been the first time she saw just how much the war had done. She had seen the look in Ron's eyes as he sat, his blue eyes just staring at the lifeless body of his elder brother. They had won the war but she could not find any joy in his eyes. They had all lost too much, their childhoods ripped from them before they'd had a chance to fully experience them.

They weren't adults. That fact was simple enough for Hermione to understand. Though they had matured, their minds leaps ahead of their bodies, they still weren't adults. Eighteen was still a youthful age, yet Hermione felt as if she was ready for retirement. They had not even embarked on their adult lives yet and here they stood; staring at the bodies of comrades, friends, and peers lost.

When the bodies of younger children were pushed past her, Hermione found herself lost in despair at the sight. She was merely eighteen years old and here she stood, watching even younger students lifeless. How could it be that the war had taken such young souls when she was aware of just how young she was herself. It almost didn't seem real that the war had taken people even younger than herself.

Unlike the others, Hermione was alone. She had no one to comfort her. The Weasley's all bunched around Fred, some eyes filled with sorrow and others with rage. Harry sat between the body of Tonk's and a sobbing Lupin. Hermione knew she should move to the war hero and comfort him, offer him something that she knew he needed. But how could someone offer comfort when they felt as empty as she did in that moment.

For the first time, surrounded by death, Hermione realized that the war would never truly be over.


Three Months After Victory

Nothing was ever truly the same after the war ended. Though Hermione tried as hard as she could, she could never seem to make it right. The expected upcoming nuptials of Hermione and Ron hadn't even needed to be announced, and now the two resided in their little apartment. Though they had yet to be wed; the two lived in what appeared to the be harmony; to the public at least.

Something had changed between the two of them, and what should have been easy was more difficult than either understood. Hermione had waited years for the moment that the two of them would finally be together, and now that she had it, she was unsure if she actually wanted it. Tired from the war the young witch did everything in her power to make the two of them work.

Their apartment was warm, filled with items that both Hermione and Ron had selected. Though she would have preferred to do without the Chudley Cannons posters that adorned the wall of their bedroom; she couldn't find it in herself to care all that much about it. In the whole scheme of things it all mattered very little. She had to make this work, and the depression that had set over both her and Ron was making everything that much harder.

Though she could have begun on a new career of her choosing, Hermione decided that for at least the next few months she would study and then sit her N.E.W.T.S. There was no explicit need to, but somehow she felt as if she would be cheating the system by skipping it all together and going into a wizarding career. The familiarity of her studies gave her some peace and with the option to do it from home; she felt there was no need to pass it up.

Hermione hadn't had the time to logically think about what she wanted to do for the rest of her life anyway, and this gave her time to research and think about the possibilities that stretched out before her. Though both of the boys had decided to be Aurors, she found she was less sure of herself than they were. Sometimes she wondered when that had happened. Before everything had been so clear cut for her and now she found herself swimming in uncertainty and trepidation.

Now as the night grew into dawn, the witch found herself laying in bed; alone once more. The more nights that passed the more she found herself alone. Ron had changed, she knew he had, but when it happened she didn't know. Perhaps it had happened sometime in the war, or maybe it had happened on the day they had finally received the victory they had fought for. All the curly haired woman knew was that the boy she had fallen in love with was no more.

That alone was a thought that brought her more than one sleepless night.

This night was different from all the others though. Unlike before, Hermione did not eventually find herself in a restless sleep. When the clock read 5:43, she had finally pulled herself from bed. She usually found a drunk and stumbling Ron at around four, but now it was later than usual. Though she had experienced nights, mornings like this before, this one brought a sense of unease in her that she didn't comprehend.

The witch put on the kettle and then sat. She did not reach for a book, knowing that it would bring her no peace as it used to. Instead she sat on the bar stool, the robe wrapped around her form as she waited for the water to boil.

Chewing on her thumb, Hermione listened to the world around her. There was little sound from the kettle, her breathing was harsh to her own ears and the solitary bird outside the kitchen window almost seemed dimmed. When the crack of apparition signaled the arrival of someone, the witch nearly fell from where she was perched. Her eyes were wide as she waited and then the slam of the front door had her on her feet within a moment.

"Ron?" Her voice called into the chilled early morning air.

The wizard was drunk and as soon as he spoke that much was obvious to the witch, "'Mione... 'Ermione." A exasperated sigh left her lips as soon as he was done. She was done with wondering where her fiancee was at all hours of the night. Now didn't seem the time to confront him, but she couldn't hold her tongue. That never had been her strong suit.

"Honestly Ronald, must you always come home drunk?"

The man had already sauntered over to the fridge and was digging through it in an attempt to find something to eat. He merely gave a shrug of his shoulders in response. The man acted like an overgrown child more often than not. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but Hermione certainly did not feel like leaving it alone that night. "Please answer me."

"No want to."

What an answer, Hermione's mouth dropped open as she stared at the man digging through the fridge. Had he really gotten so drunk that he couldn't her like a person who had spoke English their entire life? Moving over to where he was, Hermione took a hold of his arm and gently yanked him back from the fridge. She meant no ill towards him, but the drunk man had not taken it that way.

Within a second he had back handed her and she laid across the ground in shock. Though the man was drunk, Hermione had never thought him capable of hitting her. She held a hand to her face and looked at her fiancee in utter confusion. He rather confused, staring at his own hand. "Eermione... Why... Got in my way..."

Though Hermione was unsure if he knew exactly what he was saying. She had never seen the man this drunk before, and she could only imagine what the alcohol had done to him. Standing, she ran a hand across her face as she tried to think of the correct thing to do.

Everything just kept crashing down around her.

A small part of her told her to call for help, but she was too proud for that. Everyone would be sleeping and she didn't wish to bother Harry and Ginny over something she imagined had just been an accident. Taking in a deep breath she opened her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the hiss of the kettle signaling that her water had reached boiling.

Obviously bothered by the sound, Ron quickly clamped hands over his ears, his eyes wide. "Shut it off!" He shouted and Hermione moved to do just that. Though it appeared she didn't move fast enough and the drunk wizard clambered forward to knock the kettle off the stove. The metal kettle crashed to the ground and the hot water splashed out. Bouncing off the floor, Hermione let out a loud sound of pain as the boiling water splashed across her lower leg and foot. She fell backwards, crashing into the drunk and pushing them both to the ground.

"Watch where you are going!"

With that, Hermione squealed as Ron pushed her off of him and then stumbled to his feet. She watched in shock as he moved to the bedroom before collapsing on their bed. The man had passed out and Hermione watched any of her last hopes pass with him.

The witch had thought she could make everything better, that she could somehow make everything go back to normal. If not normal at least something better than this. Every night she watched Ron come home drunk and a mere ghost of his past self, she realized that had indeed been hopeful thinking. If Ron could hit her when drunk, seem unaffected when she had been burned by his actions, what did that mean for the future?

Moving to her feet, Hermione held back the sound of pain and moved as quietly past Ron as she could. Grabbing her wand off of the nightstand, she numbed some of the pain, deciding that would do until she got somewhere to fix it.

The witch didn't bother to change as she packed herself a bag, moving only the essentials into her bag. The only two items she grabbed where pictures from her past. One of her parents and the other of herself and her two best friends during a time that had seemed happier. She didn't look back as she left the apartment.

There was no point in looking back. Her life had already changed too much.


So there you have it, the first chapter in my brand new Snape/Granger story. Please leave a review, it encourages me to continue. I am trying to start writing again, and am making it a goal to write half a chapter every day. So expect fairly frequent updates.

Any constructive criticism is appreciated. There is more to come.

Josiesuelupin