Severus Snape sensed Hermione Granger walk into his potions class first thing that morning. Her book bag slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face, she sat down at her desk. Pulling out what she would need for the lesson she folded her hands neatly in her lap and waited. She was early, again, to his disgust.

"Miss Granger," He bit darkly from his desk, leaning over a parchment, quill in hand, hair curtaining his face, he didn't even have to look up, he just felt her presence, and she ran like clockwork like she had for the past seven years. When you had a student as intelligent and as wise as Hermione Granger, your subconscious afforded them more attention than perhaps you wanted to, and it was that reason alone, he knew she was there.

"Yes, Sir?" She asked in an almost sing-song voice that made his toes curl in disgust.

"You are early, again."

"Is that a problem, Sir?" She smiled sweetly.

"Yes, it is. It means I must endure you for five minutes longer than I should need to." He looked up at her, his top lip curling.

"Sorry, Sir." She blushed, looking at the desk.

He stood and rounded on her, his shadow cast over her desk, slowly she looked up, and her cheeks flushed an even darker shade of crimson as dread washed over her. What did she do wrong now?

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the small, black diary that she had left behind down by the lake. Gently he placed in on the desk. "You left this by the lake last night, Miss Granger."

Her stomach sunk and a look of dread etched its way onto her face, and he could tell that she was mortified that he may have read it and he figured, he better put the little bitch out of her misery.

"It's ok, Miss Granger, I didn't read it."

"Thank you," her voice a ghostly whisper as she grabbed the book and shoved it into her bag.

"But next time you so carelessly leave things lying around, they might end up in the wrong hands."

She nodded her understanding but she couldn't help noticing the man reeked of alcohol so early in the morning. She crinkled her nose up in disgust just as she felt someone sit next to her.

"Mister Malfoy, how nice of you to join us," Snape drawled with pure sarcasm.

"Granger." He nodded curtly to her and she stiffened slightly. He had the whole room to sit in, and he had to sit right next to her. Sure, Draco Malfoy had been civil towards her, but she didn't have to like him. She didn't like him but for the sake of her peace, she didn't say anything. He would often sit next to her, or volunteer to be her partner in some activity within the school and Hermione knew that he just liked to see her squirm in his presence.

He thought that because his mother and father had donated millions of Galleons to the victims after the war, that it would right all the wrong and took away all of the pain, and all of the suffering and it would fix all of the horrible words and things they had said and done. They thought it would keep Lucius out of Azkaban and get Draco back into Hogwarts, only part of their plan worked.

And whilst it did get Draco back into Hogwarts and bought him some semblance of respect, she wanted no part of it. She still saw him for whom and what he was and no amount of niceties were going to change her perspective on him.

"Malfoy," She bit out through clenched teeth, annoyance tangled in her words.
"Now, why we wait for Mister Longbottom, you two can get to work on a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"But Sir, we aren't up to that chapter yet," Hermione almost whined.

"I am aware of that, Miss Granger, but I have decided to change the lesson plan in the interim, and your petulance isn't going to have any bearing on what I teach today."

If the stupid little cow was too inept to think on her own accord to brew herself a sleeping potion to help with her insomnia, perhaps, at least he could remind her in the most indirect way possible.

o-o-o-o

Hermione sat cross-legged by the Great Lake once again, the wind whipping her long hair around her face like an auburn hurricane, her curls tossing too and fro wildly. The cloak she pulled tightly around her kept the ice-cold wind at bay. She shivered against the cold night air that nipped harshly at her nose and cheeks, you could see her hot breath hitting the cold, night air. She watched the moon intently that sat high in the sky above her casting its luminous glow over everything it could touch.

She couldn't sleep again, but that was nothing new for her. She liked to come down here and lose herself in her thoughts. She listened to the sound of silence as her brain went into overdrive. Why did she have to feel like this? Why did she feel as if the entire weight of the world was on her shoulders? She didn't ask to partake in the war, she didn't ask for any part of this, yet, she felt as if every single death and every single drop of innocent blood that was spilled was her fault.

She didn't know how everyone else could lay their head on their pillow and drift off so soundly without a care in the entire world, as if no one had died and as if nothing had changed.

She also didn't understand how her friends could just abandon her as soon as it was all over. As soon as fame and fortune befell them, she didn't hear another word from them. She, on the other hand, wanted to keep a low profile and a quiet life, out of the spotlight and away from accolades. After all, why should she be celebrated as a hero when there were so many others worthy of the title.

The ones who fought and paid with their lives, for starters. The ones who lost children and lost parents. She wasn't worthy of the attention; she was just Hermione Granger the girl who happened to befriend Harry Potter and was thrown headfirst into the whole ordeal. If she had have mapped out a different path in her life, she wouldn't be Hermione Granger the heroine, she would have just been Hermione Granger, another girl at Hogwarts who did nothing amazing.

The sound of a twig snapping behind her roused her from her thoughts. Turning her head ever so slightly to look over her shoulder, she waited to see who it was. Her hand clutched her wand tight in her picket ready to fight should the need arise. She was so used to having to have to make a split second decision whether to fight or run that her hand was always trained on her wand when she was alone out here at night. Too many a time had she almost been ambushed by Death Eaters or snatchers to let her guard down and even now when she knew it was perfectly safe out here, she couldn't let her guard down, she couldn't relax. She always had the what if's running through her head making her uneasy and the feeling of uncertainty gnawed in the pit of her stomach.

"Miss Granger," the deep baritone of his voice hit her ears, sending a small chill down her spine and she stiffened a touch. For months she has been able to sit out here alone and never be disturbed, and now two nights running, he had made an appearance. She was sure it was deliberate.

"Yes, sir?" She asked, her back to him but she could sense he was standing over the top of her looking down, more than likely with his trademark sneer upon his lips.

"I better be off I guess," she began to rise to her feet when to her surprise, he sat down beside her.

"Stay, go, drown yourself in the lake, I don't care honestly. I've given up on caring."

"I've noticed. Everyone has noticed. Your apparent lack of snark and point dedications through the school hasn't gone unnoticed."

"Indeed. I'm so glad I can be the topic of conversation," he bit sarcastically at her.

"You're not going to throw me in detention or strip house points because I am out after hours?"

"What's the point? Doing so never stopped you doing anything in the previous years, so why should it stop you now? You are old enough to make your own decisions I am sure. What are you now? Seventeen?" His eyes trained on the lake as if he were willing a giant tidal wave to emerge and swallow him whole, never to be seen again.

"Nineteen," She bit out dryly.

"Nineteen. You are an adult, Miss Granger. You hardly need me policing your bedtime."

Silence engulfed them for what seemed like an eternity. Hermione felt slightly more awkward on the inside than she was showing on the outside.

She noted the man smelled like whiskey, again and wondered if perhaps he had been drinking recently, or if it was still lingering from earlier that morning.

"Shouldn't you be tucked up on your bed, catching up on the much-needed sleep I am sure you so desperately desire?" His voice a whisper, still willing that wave to end his misery.

"I can't sleep," she said simply, looking out at the lake as the water danced wildly in the wind.

"And you didn't think to use the dreamless sleep potion you concocted today?" he turned to her.

"I'm saving it for the weekend, so I don't have to get up the next morning."

"Wise."

The awkward silence shrouded them once again. She didn't know what to say to him, nor did he know what to say to her. Both just watched the small waves the wind made on the lake. He wanted to press her for more information about the small snippet her read in the diary, but he told her he didn't read any.

He did the only thing he thought he possibly could in this situation without making it any more awkward than it had to be, which wasn't much, but the sentiment was there and that was to offer an ear to listen.

Although he assumed she wouldn't even think about opening up to her Potions Master, not now, not ever. He wasn't the most pleasant person to be talking to.

"Are you okay, Miss Granger?"

"What do you mean? Do you mean mentally fine, or physically or is it a question you don't expect me to really answer?" She turned to him cocking her head to the side in interest.

"Mentally, are you mentally okay?"

"Are you saying I lack mental capacity and there is something wrong with me mentally."

He sighed, this was going to be harder than he thought it would.

"Are you ok, Miss Granger? Physically, Mentally, Emotionally, whatever. How are you? I'm here if you need to talk…" He trailed off.

"Are you ok?" She answered back.

Raising a brow and narrowing an eye, he wasn't sure what she was playing at asking him the same question he asked her.

"I asked you first," he bit.

She rubbed her palms wearily over her eyes before burying her head into them. She took a few slow breaths. Should she open up to him? He was her teacher but this was her burden to carry and no one else's. He didn't need to be saddled with such nonsense that she would lay on him and expect his help.

The smell of cigarette filled her nose and she ever so slightly turned her head to look at him, to see the lit tip burning brightly, the cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth.

"You smoke?" She asked with trepidation?

He drew back on it before exhaling the smoke, it blew away in an instant in the breeze.

"Obviously," His words slow and sarcastic, almost spelling out the word itself.

"Since when?" Her voice raised a few octaves, showing a little too much surprise.

"I find it relieves stress." He avoided her question.

"But why?"

"But why do you ask so many questions?" He drew back on the cigarette again, holding the smoke within his lungs for a few seconds before letting it go again.

"You know it's not healthy?" She almost protested.

He let out a small laugh.

"Miss Granger, that is the whole point. I can only hope it brings death to greet me earlier."

"That's a horrible thing to say," She whispered.

"I'm a horrible person."

"I don't think so," Her voice a ghostly whisper to his ears.

"You don't think students and ex-students wouldn't flock for miles to ensure I was dead and threw a celebration?" He drew back again.

She let out a small giggle. "Maybe Harry and Ron."

"Where are the Prodigy child and his shadow?" He tossed the butt on the ground and stomped it out with his boot.

"You know as much as I do on that subject." She shrugged.

He smirked. "The train of friendship has derailed, has it?"

"I guess you could say that." Tears pricked her eyes as she swallowed hard.

"It hardly surprises me. Weasley always struck me as the type to be living off of the coat tails of Potter and all that he could milk out of the situation."

"I wish someone had told Me."

"It was glaringly obvious Miss Granger. The blind man next door could have seen it."

"I suppose."

"So are you go to tell me if there is anything wrong?" He pressed.

She smiled. This conversation wasn't half as bad as she had thought it would be.

"Maybe, but not now. It's freezing. I'm going back to my dorm to sit in front of the fire."

"It's hardly cold, Miss Granger."

"Not to someone with an ice cold heart." She stood up, wrapping the cloak tight around herself and vanished into the distance.

She left Severus Snape behind wondering if that is how people perceived him? Cold hearted and cruel?

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews and faves. My plan for this story was to be a slow burn into friendship and then into something more. They won't be jumping each other's bones anytime soon. The whole plot of this story is so they can heal one another mentally and emotionally. So if you are here smut early on, may I suggest one of my other works, "Good Luck, Lolita."