Greeting my fellow fanfictionatics! This is my very first story so I am understandably nervous to post it. A good friend and fellow author, Ms. Oak-Moon convinced me to give it a try so here it is. Any feedback is welcome as I am new to all of this. I read plenty but I am never on the other end of the pen so to speak.

I own nothing of the Harry Potter world but am just another Sly-Girl playing in JK's sandbox. Each chapter title is a song title off the playlist I listened to while writing each chapter. I give credit to Thirty Seconds to Mars for all my inspiration of the first few chapters and the story as a whole. The story title and part of the description is taken in pieces from a quote by Raf. B. I will be using the entire quote later on in my story and will give props there too.

Thank you all who take the time to read this and I hope you all enjoy.

Always,

~Tempest

The night was bordering on cold as the wind blew across the grass. The castle stood in anxious pause as the footsteps of children crossed the borders and onto the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After the terror and the darkness of the last year, the feeling of nervous excitement coming from the young hearts and minds of those 11 year old witches and wizards was like a balm on the scars the war left behind, and the castle welcomed them and the light they brought.

High up on the seventh floor, a young woman watched as the first few lanterns on the boats began to glow and start the trek across the water of the Black Lake, bringing with them the future of the wizarding world and the end of her solitude. Sitting in a window settee, back against the castle walls she has learned were as alive and as scarred as she was, Hermione reflected on the last 6 months of her life. Once the fanfare had died down and the momentary flame of her romance with Ronald had sputtered out to nothing, she has retreated back to the only home she had left, to try to save her own sanity. A salvation that she sometimes felt was superficial at best and nonexistent at worst.

Hermione could not decide what had been the hardest to leave in the end, her friends or the burrow. She sometimes missed the Weasley Clan and all their noise and ruckus. Molly always welcoming with a warm hug and something even warmer to eat. There was Arthur with his amusing questions about muggle items and how they worked or his quiet and reserved nature that could instill calm in anyone. The twins, well rather just George now, could cause a pain and sorrow so deep you felt like you couldn't breathe, but who could also have you laughing at some prank or joke so hard that again you just couldn't breathe. Ginny and Harry had been there any time she had needed a shoulder to cry on or an ear to pour her words into but their relationship had been growing and cementing at the same time and to get between the two for any reason just felt like such a gross misuse of their friendship. Then there was Ronald. Hermione found she really just could not bring herself to feel anything but numb when it came to thinking about the youngest male Weasley. They had tried after the battle to rekindle the momentary spark they had when they had kissed. As the days moved forward though, neither of them could find anything beyond a comforting friendship and that awkwardness anytime they touched. Though she did not love Ron in a romantic way, the day he brought home Luna Lovegood and introduced her to Molly and Arthur as his girlfriend, Hermione had owled McGonagall and promptly packed what little she had and left for the remodeling team at Hogwarts. Over the coming weeks, her separation continue to grow until there was very little communication between her and any of her old friends. At first she missed every one of them for her own reasons. She would sometimes wake up and miss her bed in Ginny's room and knowing if she went into Ron's room she would find her two best friends asleep and looking exactly as she remembered in the tent. And just like that, her terror and nightmares would come flying back to the forefront of her mind and she would have to fight off another panic attack. Escape from the many memories only seemed to work away from the people who had been so closely involved in the moments to begin with, so her distance from Harry and Ron became more until there was very little left to hold on to anymore. Not that her friends did not still try daily to reach out to her. Hermione was just not ready to be the same girl she once was and she understood that no one else was going to be able to allow her to find her balance but herself.

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around herself, careful not to rub or press down too hard on the scar adorning her left arm. Though it had healed enough over time to stop actively bleeding, the scar itched on a daily basis. Sometimes the itch persisted for so long that she would have to go see Madam Pomfrey for a pain and numbing salve just to get through the day. Glancing down at the sleeve covering her arm she reflected on how much she despised that word, not because it was etched into her skin but because it reminded her that for a moment in time she was completely helpless and at the control of someone else. Each morning when she wakes and her eyes clear of sleep, she sees the scar and tells herself never again. She would die before she was ever under anyone else's control, anyone else's mercy. Glancing out the window, her blank facade cracks slightly as she recalls that her new motto in life is why she had no one by her side, no one there to hold her and tell her it would be alright. To give someone your heart and your trust was to give them control over you, and Hermione Granger found that the woman she had become after the war was not one who could ever do that again. Her solitude and lack of companionship was of her own choosing. But as she watched the first carriage pull up at the front entrance to the school and the returning students began to jump out smiling and talking in obviously excitement filled voices she wondered, "If it is my choice, then why do I feel so alone?"

Several floors below the young woman, an older man paced slowly around his quarters, glass of firewhiskey in one hand and his wand rolling in between the fingers of his other hand, as his thoughts raced. He knows tonight he has a reprieve of having to see the faces of all the students who survived the war, and looking for the faces of those who were lost. The faces of the names that have been revolving around in his head since he opened his eyes in St. Mungo's and realized he had survived. The moment he realized that he would actually have to face the wizarding world without Albus Dumbledore as a shield and live with every single person he was unable to save on his soul and conscience. As he jerks to the left and starts his trek back to the other side of his sitting room, he contemplates how the hell Minerva managed to convince him that coming back here to teach was a good idea. The position was a new one, one that would have more free time and leeway on what he did or how he taught, but teaching none the less. A profession he never truly wanted and never did enjoy but that he found in some ways he was very efficient at over time. Now here he was, standing in his old quarters, pacing like a caged animal in a zoo, drowning in liquor and his thoughts of how he would survive this next year in tact? This had to be the second most dunderheaded thing he had ever agreed to in his life. Well maybe the third as his choice to be a Death Eater and then to spy on his old master instead should probably take first and second place.

Severus Snape was not known for making many foolish decisions but it seemed in his vulnerable state at the hospital, he did in fact do just that. He turns and gracefully throws himself into his leather chair, setting the glass down heavily on the side table and putting his face in his hands as he blows out a harsh breath. Pulling up his occlumency shields to regulate his thoughts and emotions, he sits back and contemplates how he wants this year to begin. For two decades, he has been the bat of the dungeons. The dark and terrifying teacher that every student but his own snakes hated and even they had a healthy fear and respect for him. Now he realizes that though he cannot suffer idiots well and he really is a snarky, sarcastic arse, he does not want to be that teacher anymore. What he needs to figure out is who he is; who he wants to be, now that the chains are gone. Another slow deep breath in and he thinks back on the last few years and the one person he remembers always being on his side. Miss Granger…even her name caused the guilt to start to bubble to the surface. Albus may have known his story and may have been his only confidant, but he never truly trusted or believed in him. For Albus, Severus was always just a means to an end in the war. He may have grown fond of him near the last few years but after all the mistrust and the pain, it was a little too late. But her, Miss Granger, the little know it all golden girl was the only one who he ever overheard defending him to her peers. He could not count how many times she had corrected those two idiots she followed that it was "Professor Snape" and not just Snape. There was even a point in her 4th year where he put a stop to a rumor his own house planned to start about her having a crush on him because she decided to put Mr. Weasley in his place for calling Severus "the greasy git" in front of her. After all the slurs and the rancor he poured on her every year and still she found enough of her goodness to spread his way even if she never knew that he knew.

He has seen her over the past six months walking the castle and grounds. From what Minerva had told him, not long after the final battle she had shown up with her little beaded bag, dirty and broken at the gate and asked to stay here till the school year started and help fix the castle. Minerva, seeing the young woman she thought of as a daughter like that opened the gates wide and let her in. Once she was settled, Miss Granger seemed to throw herself into every activity and revitalization project needed. He had noticed the dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights and the tightness to her smile and around her eyes that hinted at trauma and horrors she was unable to shake. She worked until she collapsed and then came back to do it all over again the next day. He never approached her and although he was informed she was the reason he was still alive, he could not seem to find the right words to say to thank her or even address her. So he stayed a silent sentinel, watching and waiting for the moment he might find the words or the courage, waiting for a moment she might need him to help her as she had helped him. As the beginning of the school year rolled in he realized he still had not found those words or that moment and wondered how he was going to face her of all people in the morning. Deciding he would have to figure that out, as well as every other answer to every other issue he had already, he downed the last of his whiskey and stood. Slightly unsteady on his feet, he made his way to his sleeping quarters. As with the rest of his suite of rooms, his furniture was minimal and consisted of dark cherry wood polished to shine. Stripping out of his black button up shirt and trousers, Severus laid out across his bed, letting the soft mattress relieve his aching body. Staring at the charmed ceiling above him and letting the moving cosmos lull him towards an unconscious state, he let his mind drift from the issues he would be facing into oblivion so that he could hopefully get some sleep before he had to face the whispers and the disgust he knew were coming on the morrow.

As the last of the carriages pulled away and the first years were moved in and lined up in front of the Great Hall, Hermione finally levitated herself back down to the ground from the high window sill and turned to head down the deserted corridor. No one knew about her little quiet place and she planned to keep it that way. The funny thing about the war was that no one seemed to learn to look up except her, and in doing so she had found the perfect place to go if she didn't want to be found. After her face to face "talk" with the crazy bitch, heights just no longer seem to be an issue. When you have already fallen as far as you can and hit the bottom with a resounding thud, what was there to be afraid of anymore.

She walked, letting her feet carry her away from the solitude and the peace and towards the bright energy of the still living and thriving peers who were back and invading her home. She was thankful that her year was going to be different, that she did not have to take meals with the others and could keep to herself. Hermione had no want to be the center of attention ever again and she had no desire to talk to or be surrounded by all of the bright and positive light. After dancing every night in the dark for the last year, the pulsing of the curse in her arm whispering sweetly through her veins for months on end, the light of the other students hurt. She knew from having come across a few others helping rebuild the castle that their need to heal and be "alright" and the incessant need they had to try to drag her with them, that the pain was too much and the cold inside only grew worse with every burst of warmth they gave. It was better, safer, if she just stayed away. She didn't want their pity or their care, and she didn't want to corrupt them with her darkness or the cold she now lived in. If she could make it through this year without damaging anyone else she would award herself an O for her humanitarian efforts and call it a job well done.