Strange had not been the word to describe it. For the first time in Hermione Granger's life, she had not been able to search the vast index of her mind to come up with the proper word to describe the feeling of boarding the Hogwarts Express without her two closest friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
Although the war was won, and the threat of Voldemort no longer hung over their heads, the atmosphere on the train was much more subdued than she could ever remember it being. The last time many of the students had been inside the walls of the castle, it had been mostly blown apart, with many — too many, casualties accompanying the wreckage. People were still very much in mourning
As she sat down in a compartment with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, the three girls knew better than to try to attempt small talk. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen one another throughout the summer holidays. There were more than enough funerals for them all to attend.
As always, when facing something you'd rather not face, their arrival to Hogsmeade station arrived much sooner than Hermione would have liked. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to go back to school. Merlin knew that the structure and routine of it was what she craved to get her back to feeling somewhat human again. It was more that, she wasn't exactly sure how entering Hogwarts again would affect her.
Hermione rose slowly from her seat, once the train came to a complete stop. She stretched out her stiff muscles, with a few audible cracks in her back, then queued up the rest of the students to exit.
Hagrid's booming voice called out to the first years, yet she couldn't help but to have noticed it lacked its usual jovial tone.
She raised a hand in his direction to say hello, but he hadn't noticed her in the sea of incoming students. Perhaps over the weekend she would call at his hut for some tea, and choke down his rock cakes, she thought.
Would Hagrid's hut still have been there, she wondered? So much had gone up in flames, or was blasted clear away. Even with magic, how much could have possibly been repaired in such a short amount of time?
The pressing silence that surrounded her broke her from her thoughts. Dozens of students stood frozen, as they stared at the black skeletal, winged horse-like creatures that pulled the school carriages. Hermione understood the reaction; it was the first time she had seen the Thestrals as well.
Slowly, almost one at a time, the students began whispering to one another. The low hiss of it all seemed to confuse the animals, who began stomping impatiently at the ground.
"I hadn't realized…" Ginny trailed off, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
Luna placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder to comfort her. Uncharacteristically, Hermione hadn't known what to say.
As the carriage brought them up to the castle, Hermione hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath, waiting for Hogwarts to come into view. Slowly it appeared, gently arising from beyond the horizon, like the early morning sun. The towers and turrets, once a source of comfort and refuge, now brought with it some of the worst memories she was sure she would have for the rest of her life. Almost as if she were living through it again, she began to hear the shouts of battle, the cries of those who had watched a loved one fall before them, and the thunderous noise of dozens of spells being cast.
Her breathing sped up, coming out in short shallow huffs. Luna spoke up quietly beside her.
"It'll be alright, Hermione. We're safe here," her dreamy voice tried to reassure her. "Try to take some deep breaths through your nose, and out your mouth. It'll calm you down."
Hermione nodded, and began to do as she said. Luna had been correct. There wasn't anyone who would hurt her inside the school now. Voldemort was dead, as well as most of his Death Eaters. Those who survived now rotted away behind the dreary walls of Azkaban.
She was safe.
Ginny and Hermione parted from Luna while entering The Great Hall. The first years, who filed in down the center of the room, would have never known a war had broken out in that very room, just four short months before. The walls had all been spelled back together, the four house tables sat exactly where they had for the six years she originally attended the school, and the high table was filled with the familiar faces of her professors, just as it always had.
With one, notable exception.
Strange… there was that word again. It was strange not seeing the bored, bordering on disdainful sneer of her old Potions professor sat alongside his colleges. The absence of Severus Snape was poignant.
After the war, Harry, Hermione and Ron had been busy telling the entire Wizarding community of what Snape had done for them all. How he had been working for the Order, up until his final breath. For that reason, Hermione suspected, the other professors kept his usual seat empty during the Sorting. Out of respect for the hero, once thought a traitor to them all.
Hermione had not been able to take her eyes away from the vacant chair, as a terrible sadness washed over her. How horrible, she thought, that he had died thinking everyone he had ever considered a friend thought him a monster. Snape would never had had the chance to accept the gratitude he now earned from many in the community after his death. She wondered if he knew. That, wherever peopled ended up when they died, if he knew that he was finally recognized as the hero he had been?
After the Sorting, and the Welcoming Feast, Hermione would have loved to had just been able to head straight to the Gryffindor Common Room, and up to her dormitory, but sadly she could not. Over the summer, as she probably should have expected, a shiny Head Girl badge arrived with her Hogwarts letter. As Head Girl, she was expected to lead the new batch of Gryffindors through the castle, and show them the way to their new home.
It was a funny thing, how much smaller the First Years seemed to become with each passing year. Obviously she had known that was due to the fact that she was continuing to grow, not that children were somehow becoming smaller. However, she did have that moment most older students have, in wondering if she had ever been that tiny.
Like a mother duck, with her ducklings in tow, Hermione led the excited group of Gryffindors through the castle. She smiled to herself as they pointed out the talking portraits, or the random ghosts floating about around them. As customary, Nearly Headless Nick stopped by to welcome them, and make his usual quip about hoping they contributed to winning the House Cup at the end of the year.
They'd done a remarkable job on the castle, she noted to herself as they walked on. Mostly everything had been back to normal, with just a few small exceptions. She'd meant to take a bit of a shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, yet when she turned left off of a staircase on the third floor, the corridor she'd trekked up and down more times than she could have counted, was blocked off.
Looking down it, her chest felt hollow, seeing the stone and rubble still scattered on the ground. The First Years went momentarily silent, before a low buzz of gossip about the war sounded out between them.
That noise seemed to fill her head again. The screaming, shattering glass, the wailing cries from those witnessing friends die in front of them. She could have almost seen the red and green lights flashing out before her eyes.
Hermione gently shook her head, and tore her eyes from the wreckage, then quickly turned and directed them to a longer route upstairs without saying a word.
After giving the new students a brief tour of the Common Room, Hermione bid them all a goodnight, and suggested they head to bed, to prepare for their first day of lessons in the morning. Sluggishly she dragged herself up the stairs, and into her private room, as Head Girl.
She was thankful to Professor McGonagall for not making her share a room. Even though she was a little more than a year older than her fellow classmates, it seemed to make quite the difference. Between her actual age apart from them, the amount of times she used the time-turner during her third year, and how much being on the run the previous year seemed to age her - both physically and mentally, she felt as if she would have had nothing in common with her dormmates.
While she laid in bed, attempting to fall asleep, her mind inexplicably traveled back to Professor Snape. Although obviously he hadn't been the friendliest professor, he was the one teacher who always challenged Hermione. All of the others praised her work, referring to her as brilliant on more occasions than was necessary.
Yet Snape, he always looked for more. Each time she would see one of his red slashes on her assignments, with a scathing comment, it always forced her to work harder, and truly push her intelligence to its limits. She worked more diligently in Potions - and then Defense Against the Dark Arts during her sixth year, than she had in any of her other classes. She loved it; she thrived on it. A part of her felt lost at the thought of not being pushed that hard this coming year.
Without Snape there, the year was bound to be, well… strange.
A/N - The entire premise of this fic just hit me like whoa the other night, and I had to start writing. If you're one of the people reading my other fic, Saving Severus Snape, I have not abandoned that to work on this, by any means. I'm going to be working on both. Pretty much when my muse isn't cooperating with one, I'll switch over to the other. I have 3 chapters of this already written, and am going to be trying to post them weekly/bi-weekly, until I'm no longer caught up on chapters. I haven't ever seen a fic where Hermione dies and meets/falls in love with Severus in the afterlife, so I thought I would give this a shot. I hope you all like it!