Please note that all characters recognised belong to JKR, and I am not making any money from this piece of fiction.

Authors Note: This story is based loosely around my own turbulent life at present. Anything from Snape's POV is my own invention. Hermione's POV is my own mind

Prologue – Pretending to cope

This feeling was ruining her life. She couldn't cope with the idea of never seeing him again. Oh, sure, it was fine, she wasn't bothered on the outside, but inside, she felt like her entire world had crumbled with 5 little words.

"I don't love you anymore"

She could fake a smile to those who only knew of her in academic circles. That was the easy part. It was trying to convince the rest of the world that she could cope with this, which she, Hermione Granger, Gryffindor know-it-all, could cope without him. But at this moment all she wanted to do was to curl up in her little room and cry her heart out.

Where had it gone wrong? Perhaps it was the way she changed every thing. Like when he wanted to go somewhere with her, she made everything complicated and changed the entire outing to suit her.

"Gods Hermione! For just once, can we not make an arrangement and KEEP TO IT?" He would scream at her in annoyance. This would cause a fight. This would usually end with some form of apology from her, a sweet smile, and some equally apologetic kisses. And then they would go around in circles, repeating the procedure until either he gave in to suit her, or the offending outing was cancelled.

Hermione remembered this with a choking sob and clutched at her bed sheets more tightly. This was too hard. How had she fucked up so badly enough to lose the one man she loved more than anyone in the world? How had she not realised that his feelings towards her had changed? Why hadn't she seen this coming?

Because she hadn't wanted to. With the fighting that they had been doing lately, she knew that it just wasn't going to work. Deep, deep down, she knew it. She had just not counted on his love for her dying. Well, no that was a lie, he still loved her. He told her so.

"Its not that I don't love you, its just I'm not IN love with you. I love you like a friend"

How much of a slap had that been? How can you tell someone you love them one day, and then the next its all Oh-sorry-Hermione-I-don't-love-you-and-now-I-don't-want-to-be-with-you-anymore? And-can-we-still-be-friends?

She couldn't stay here. She couldn't watch him lead his life with some skinny little bimbo and not want to choke the very life from her. To watch him hold another woman like he had once held her, to kiss the afore mentioned bimbo, to sleep with her, to have her bear his children….

Not that she was ever to bear his children. There had been a time, shortly after him leaving her that she had thought it may have been possible, but no. She wasn't carrying his child.

His child. She cried even harder when she thought of this. Maybe it would have brought him back to her. Maybe he would have stayed with her. But something deep in the back of her academically polished mind still niggled at her. He would have been unhappy. But she would have had him. Who was she kidding? The pair of them both knew that she wouldn't ever purposefully make him unhappy. At least he had told her straight away and not let her believe that things would get better. That would have only made it harder for her to let go.

It just pissed her off. The things that had happened the day before he told her it was over. He had kissed her, held her close, and told her he loved her. Had he lied? No, she was sure that he had loved her. At least at one point. Maybe. She gave a small whimper of frustration in the back of her throat and almost threw the bedclothes from her body. She stood up too quickly, and the room began to spin precariously, and before she fell over the mass of clothes all over her floor, she grabbed at the bed rail to steady herself. Slowly, the room came back into focus, and she moved towards the door. Twisting the handle, she heard voices coming from downstairs.

"I'm telling you, that girl is pregnant. She isn't eating properly, and the little food she does eat, she brings back up within an hour!"

"No, she isn't. Leave her alone, she misses him, that's all. Just give her some time to sort herself out"

"I'm telling you. She's bloody pregnant!"

Hermione crept to the top of the stairs and peered through the banister rail and into the lounge below. She could see her mother, father, grandmother, and from the outspoken voice shouting, she assumed her uncle was in there also.

"Look, leave her alone! She loves him, and he has broken her damn heart! What do you expect her to do? Be all hearts and smiles? Just get off her case and for god's sake, just let her get him out of her system!"

Thank you, uncle darling.

"I still say she's bloody pregnant. If she is, then she isn't welcome in this house. She can get out, I won't want her here"

Touché, Mother. I love you too.

Without a word, Hermione crept downstairs. Thankfully, her grandmother had started shouting at her mother, so no one heard or saw her magically change her clothes and straighten her hair. She slipped on a pair of heels and reached for a coat.

"Then she can come and stay with me! You call yourself her mother; all you have done for that girl is given her bloody grief since this Severus left her! She is pining for him, can't you see that!"

Whatever her mother said back, Hermione didn't hear. She was too busy wrenching the door open and fleeing down the street, as fast as her heels would carry her.

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Maybe he had been too harsh, Severus Snape reflected as he swirled the fire whiskey around in its glass. Frustrated, he downed the glass in one swift movement, his throat burning as the heated liquid burned its way down his throat. He did love her. Just not in the way that she needed him too. Perhaps he should visit her. No, she would probably slap his face for him and tell him to leave her alone. Not that he wouldn't deserve it of course.

He, Severus Snape, for the first time in his life, was uncertain of how to proceed.

He wanted to get in touch with her, by owl. Floo, personal call, telephone, letter, email, anything damn it! He needed to see if she was coping. Anything to see if she was alright.

He hated himself for hurting her. If someone had told him a few short weeks ago that he would do this to her, he would have stood up and punched them out. It just happened. It wasn't anything that she had done. Hell, it wasn't even anything that he had done. It just happened. If he could turn back time, he would, but how do you carry on from something like this?

There was no going back. Never again would he allow himself to go back to her. The once all burning fire that had represented his love for her had all but simmered into a tiny flame, and that was about to go out.

Love was supposed to be eternal. Perhaps it was only lust he felt for her. That and that alone was not enough to make him love her like he used to. They both just had to accept the facts. It was over, and she would get over him. He was doing so.

But sometimes, although he would never admit it, he missed her so much it hurt.