"Professor Snape?" A strong, quiet voice called from the doorway of his classroom.
Severus snapped his head up to look across the dim room at the young female who dared interrupt his silent paper grading. "Why exactly, Miss Granger, do you feel the need to use your privileges as a prefect to intrude upon my personal time at such a late hour?" His cool voice slithered just loud enough to reach the girl across the room. And send a chill up her spine.
"I...I just..." Hermione closed her eyes and pursed her lips, clutching at the door a bit as she searched for the proper words to explain herself. She had hardly thought it through before she made her way down to the dungeons. She knew only that not much could make her feel worse. "I could not stand to be alone tonight, Sir, and I knew you would be awake." The girl admitted as she entered the classroom and closed the door slowly behind her. One of her least favorite things to do was show weakness, however she had learned in the time since the war that holding it in for too long was more than she could withstand.
The Professor tilted his head ever so minutely to the left. Miss Granger had not yet turned herself to him again, taking her sweet time closing the heavy door to his classroom. But he had already seen the shadows and haunting in her eyes, even from this distance. The war haunted all of them. Though with the way the wizarding world had swiftly returned to the old, ignorant routine...He sometimes thought he was the only one who ever thought about the ghosts - both literal and figurative - of just a few months before. Her eyes revealed time him, though, that he was not alone in his pain and confusion. He did not speak as the brunette slowly turned round and began to walk to toward him. She ventured not as far as his desk, but merely to the front of the students work spaces. She gracefully slid onto one of the stools, dropping her school bag and slumping forward a small amount onto the stone desk. There was no attempt to meet his eyes. He could feel a mildly quizzical expression land on his face. What words was he expected to offer this broken young woman? Severus was not the time to spout out useless drivel such as 'It will all be alright. Don't worry, cheer up.'. He refused insult her intelligence with childish fluff, anyway. "Miss Granger, your explaination leaves something to be desired. What do you desire from me, exactly?"
Hermione felt her lower lip quiver as she finally looked up at her dark haired potions master. "Utterly no idea." Her voice was small as she gave a half-hearted shrug. It was the most honest statement she could make, really. There were so many things she desired. To rid herself of the haunting images of a war she was too young to fight in, to bring back those she'd lost. To bring back the love she once held for Ronald. She desired...to desire anything normal would also be a glorious gift. Hermione truly wanted to want again. She was floating and swaying through life, this way and that. Pretending to be herself.
"I understand." The smooth, masculine words startled Hermione at first. But as she saw the way Severus Snape's eyes formed into an understanding softness, a small weight lifted from her gut. The man nodded sharply then and gestured toward her abandoned sack. "Do your potions work." He said before beginning his own work once more. Hermione nodded, fascinated by whatever had just occured. She moved slowly to pull out her parchment and quill and then did as her teacher had suggested.
The two continued to work, seperately and yet the most connected to another human being that either had felt in more days and months than either cared to count. Occasionally, knowing someone else shares your pain is enough to get you through a wee bit longer. And occasionally, a wee bit longer is all you need.
"Granger, it's well past midnight at the moment. Perhaps it is time for us to both retreat to our beds." Severus scrawled a graceful "P" across the top of the final parchment in his stack with his feather quill.
Hermione gasped slightly, not expecting the time to have passed so quickly. She was nervous, suddenly. Had she over stayed her welcome? She began collecting her things speedily. "Sorry, sorry...of course I shall go, Professor."
The dark haired man watched her for a several long moments before speaking once more. "Tomorrow evening, Miss Granger...I would dare say I have more abysmal home work to look over than I did tonight."
Hermione paused her flurry of motion to mull over this information. Was he, in his own way, inviting her back the next evening? "Er...Yes, Sir. I have rather a lot of reading to do, as well." She offered her own information in a similar fashion. This seemed to leave the door open for her to return, or not. No promises were made, however her stomach was once again unclenched as she thought of the option to return here another evening.
The professor gave a curt nod and Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder. "Well, I'll be off then..." She turned round and began a scurry for the door.
"Miss Granger?" Hermione heard the silken voice and could not help a shudder as she faced him again.
"Yes, Professor?" The girl asked almost hopefully.
Severus was not sure precisely what he had planned to say in that moment, perhaps give her one last snippet of comfort before he sent her on her way? That was not exactly how he might usually conduct himself, however he felt he needed to say something, now that he had called her back. "I can say quite honestly that out of all the students I might choose to sit in company with...you are my least detestable option."
Hermione felt herself blush and even nearly quirk a smile. Odd, the comment would be far from a compliment in most circles...but Hermione knew coming from Severus Snape, it was practically a hug. "You're the least detestable companion I've had in quite a long while, Professor." She turned on her heel and was gone, walking with decidedly more pep in her step than she had entered the classroom with.
Severus grimaced to himself. What an uncomfortable interaction, he mused. Yet, as the man stood and began walking to his private chambers...an eagle eyed observer might have said Severus Snape had something along the lines of a pep in his step as well. Thank Merlin there were no observers about, though.
Severus went about his evening routine efficiently, pulling on his black, silk pajama bottoms. The pants were one of the few indulgences he had allowed himself and the well worn silk was nearly threadbare. He had kept them alive over the last 10 years with cloth enhancing charms, though he knew it was nearly time to throw the damned things away. He sighed softly to himself as he extinguished his candle and slid beneath his bedding. In the darkness, Severus' mind wandered back to the time he had just spent with a certain Gryffindor Prefect. He couldn't say why, at this moment, his mind took him to that place. He was generally a man of much mental focus and control. He merely could not find it within himself to stop the train of thought that was currently drifting through his internal library. Having company tonight had been a source of comfort for himself, almost as much as it seemed to be for Hermione. And as her first named flitted into his consciousness, he envisioned briefly what grand company the brunette might also be to him in his bed. Before this thought could horrify him as thoroughly as it should, Severus was drawn into sleep.
Hermione stripped down to her undergarments before climbing into her four poster bed. She was never more thankful to have her own room then now. While she was technically an 8th year, because of the disruption of the war, the powers that be has requested she return also as an extra prefect, someone to help the younger students get back to a sense of normalcy. She happily accepted, not only because was pleased to help the school in any way, but also because she craved the privacy of her own space. She never had to worry who might pester her when she was studying or whom she had to share the loo with. Most of all, she was quite relieved to know no one would hear her night terrors. Hermione would not be able to stand the other students hearing her screams, seeing her thrashing he bed covers and sometimes even falling out of bed in her fits. The war left many physical scars, yes, but the emotional were far deeper. The best of the best at Saint Mungos had rid her of the outward marks left by the curses, but they could do little for the deep gashes slashed into her soul. The medi-wizards had suggested several potions, ones for forgetting and numbing of emotions...but really, Hermione was intelligent. She knew numbing the pain and memories would not heal them.
While many witches and wizards, including most of her friends, chose to take the medical advice and go the potion avenue, she could not bring herself to follow suit. Hermione liked to believe that time and processing was the only true healer of emotional scarring. The rest of the magical world seemed to disagree, however, which made processing through things that much more difficult. With everyone else wanting to ignore and forget, who was she left with to confide in? Severus Snape, her internal voice spoke up. It was possible...but not probable. The man had never been kind to her during her formative years, though it was a different time then. No ones pre-war actions were held against them any more. Severus had been forced to play a part, just as so many others had. Hermione knew better than to assume that Professor Snape held no good in his heart. He had allowed her to sit with him this very evening, even offered a few kind words. Never would that have taken place before Voldemort was defeated. The girl felt a shiver up her spine even as she thought the evil name. She sighed allowed, wishing slightly for the nights immediately after the final battle, when she had been allowed to take Dreamless Sleep Drought before bed. It was far too addictive for her to continue with it, though. And there were far more things from those days that she was happy to have moved on from. Her mind began to cloud as she closed her eyes, skipping from odd thought to odd thought in the way ones mind does directly before falling asleep. Perhaps I can speak with Severus about the war, he seems like he might be a rather good listener...