A/N: I have not written a fanfic in over two years, so, please cut me some slack. This idea came to me, though, during a recent vulnerable time in my life. However, I was reminded that with darkness comes light, and that is what I wish to portray in this story. It's still in-progress, but I have a very firm understanding on where I'd like it to go. I've uploaded the first two chapters at once, though, as they are both introductory.

Forewarning: there are definite scenes of sexual nature that will occur, however, I hope to pursue them in a more... tasteful manner.

Please review if you'd like. I'm a curious to know the response to this idea.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter-that honor goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I owe her the magic that filled my childhood (and yes, my early adulthood, as well).

Chapter I. Ghosts

Severus Snape wandered the halls of Hogwarts, not quite sure where his legs were taking him. The barren corridors and passages felt enormously eerie since the war's finale and Voldemort's fallen regime. As a student, he had always marveled at how well his mind knew the Hogwarts grounds-what with his many lonesome, nightly wanderings. However, since his death, he soon realized how much that paled in comparison to his current geographical knowledge. Without the ability to sleep, he had spent the past summer watching the seemingly ever-constant castle rebuild itself from the ashes, with the aid of the remaining staff.

Regret and anxiety felt like a plummeted anchor in the pit of his stomach every time he caught glimpses of his former staff. He knew that the Potter boy had relayed the depths of his memory from the pensieve to them and to the Ministry after the dust settled, but part of him knew that the boy's explanations and reassurances may prove moot-there would always be individuals who saw his choices as cowardly, not brave. And he was one of them.

He did not quite know yet whether or not the Hogwarts staff was aware of his existence in new form. At one point earlier in the summer, he could have sworn that the headmistress had caught sight of him in the Gryffindor tower while she prepared the new eighth-level dormitories for the students who had yet to complete their full seventh grade level the year prior. Luckily, however, she seemed too absorbed in her work to notice the dark ghost, hidden in the corner. Despite having only spent one year in the role, Severus understood the pressures Minerva now endured as she struggled to make room for an above average number of students. He did not wish the burden on anyone, especially when considering the horrors with which the previous years' students must now be dealing. Such dismay would pay a toll on any witch or wizard's psyche, no matter how strong and capable she or he may be.

Broken from his reverie, he immediately realized he had once again found himself in the Gryffindor common room. He knew why his mind subconsciously always brought his being here-it made him feel closer to her. To Lily. And, once again, he pondered what his life would have been like had he been sorted into this house with her. His fragmented thoughts continued as he made his way to the over-stuffed couch by the fire.

Strange, he thought whilst looking up into the flames, both confusion and sadness etched across his face. I can almost feel it.

For once, Harry did not think twice as he strode through the train, looking for a compartment. For once, he kept his head held high as passing students gave him cheerful smiles and slaps on the back. But, unfortunately, for once-and despite past years feeling somewhat similarly-he knew he was completely and truly alone. How is that even possible? He thought. There he stood among the warmth and glow of his peers, yet cold darkness enveloped him every time he tried to approach their light. Why?

Well, he knew why. Ron. All he wanted was to see his friend's freckled face and flaming, red hair again. To hear his infectious laughter, which always seemed to fill a room-no matter how obnoxious. But instead, he forced a false grin as he walked past his fellow students and found an empty compartment towards the back of the train. He placed his worn and reliable trunk on one of the upper shelves, sat down abruptly and began to massage the dry eyes beneath the frames of his glasses.

After spending the entire summer in seclusion, he thought he would eventually open up to the idea of Hogwarts and, in turn, the social interaction that would undoubtedly ensue. Nevertheless, as soon as he stepped foot on the train, he desperately yearned to return his sanctuary at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He had led a simple life with Kreacher, repairing the damage the Death Eaters had left behind in their search for Harry and his two best friends.

Friends. For some reason, the word echoed in his mind like a sharp insult. Not anymore-they're gone now.

His summer had proved evident of that. Beyond all the praise he had received in the letters that reached him from all over the world, there was also resentment. And it outweighed the praise. Countless stories of lost loved ones flooded through his brain day and night, weighing him down in a way that made him shiver despite the summer's heat. Unfortunately, such sentiment emanated from those he had believed most constant in his life…

The look of Ginny's tear-struck face as she watched her favorite brother die would never stop haunting Harry's thoughts. His nightmares. He closed his eyes and she materialized in his mind, but instead of the warm, chocolate-brown eyes, he saw only her furrowed shadows of resentment as she turned to leave with what remained of her family.

He opened his eyes and noticed that the train had already left the platform without him realizing. As the urban landscape turned to that of rural pastures, a sudden memory quickly swept through him. This compartment. Here, five years ago, the dementors of Azkaban had boarded and plunged him into the darkest of depths of himself. How did I do it? He questioned. How did I find the light?

And suddenly, he felt a glowing presence behind him. Not needing to look around to know who stood behind the compartment's glass window, he whispered,

"Hermione."

She watched the raven-haired, spectacled boy-no, man-regard the passing meadows beyond the window. When she saw his body stiffen, she knew that he was aware of her presence. And her stomach filled with dread.

How do I face him? She pondered. Instead of dwelling, she quietly slid the compartment door open and rested her trunk against the seat across from Harry. He had not looked up at her yet, and with each passing moment, Hermione doubted he ever would. She did not blame him, but it did not stop the agonizing sensation that tore through her chest. But then, there they were. The green pair of eyes had found the brown, each mirroring the same sentiment. Contrition.

"Harry, I-," the start of an apology choked as an abrupt sob escaped from within her, but it did not matter. Harry pulled her into a bone-crushing hug and she could feel his tears wet her cheek and ear. Her arms were caught between her body and his, and she grasped at the neck of his shirt, trying hard to breathe normally. His familiar scent brought back the ghosts of nights spent in a cold tent, strategizing and researching whilst hunting for horcruxes. Her heart lurched once more, as memories of Ron surfaced. Of him dialing in on the radio. Of him sleeping on the cot, muttering in his sleep. Of him leaving the tent in anger, his bag flung over his shoulder, walking off into the darkness. He's gone.

She broke away from the hug she did not deserve and spoke before she lost her nerve. "Harry, no words can describe how sorry I am. I tried to write you back, I did, but all I could think about was hi-him." She paused and inspected his expression. He did not look angry, just… broken. "You were all alone and I should have been there for you. I should have been there for my best friend."

His eyes fell to the floor and said almost inaudibly, "I thought you hated me too."

With the crook of her pointer finger, she lifted his chin up so she could look him directly in the eyes. "I could never hate you, Harry Potter." She let her hand move from his chin to the back of his neck and pulled him into her own hug. "I was grieving in the only way I knew how. I didn't speak to anyone for months and slept all the time. But Harry, in my grief, I was selfish. While I sought solitude, I never even thought about how others may need my comfort. And Harry," she pulled away and could see her tearful eyes reflected in his, "I didn't know about Ginny, not until a couple of weeks ago, but by then it was too late." She stopped, a look of horror etched on her face. "Please tell me I'm not too late. Please tell me I can still be your friend, despite what I've done."

He leaned forward and with his thumb, wiped away each individual tear that seeped from her eyes. "Always," he said, and Hermione could see the ghost of a smile upon his lips.