AN: Okay, I know, I know. I promised that things would look up…but right now I do not see Hermione's character feeling anything other than destruction. There will be better times I promise; I wanted to try and make Severus a focus point on this chapter – I am not the best at Severus' character, but he is a fun character to write.

Also, I would just like to mention the fact one of my favourite authors on is reading this FF :3 (really spurred me to get this chapter done as quick as I could). And I want you to go check out their work… It's just amazing, Onecelestialbeing, is the author – please go check their work out!

Enjoy –

Chapter Four - 'Everything's Fucked':

Severus' thoughts were solely on the one Little Gryffindor whom was occupying his living-room currently. How had he allowed himself to become so close – so quickly – with her? How had he become so emotionally attached to her? How, how the fuck had he nearly kissed the poor girl... She had looked so frightened when he had tried to press their lips together.

Emotions were till raw for her, Severus. It's too soon; put your feelings to one side. He chided himself.

Severus needed to get out of the house; get away from her. She had played too much on his mind lately, he really need to regain his self-control. So, now Severus left his home slamming the door shut, an icing chill pounded throughout his body as he headed through the pellets of rain, he trudged through it all. Then he dared a glance back at the rotten, old home of his, which was had been his belated parents' home. Severus hated it really, but he had nowhere else to go – that was home. He could not justify selling it – who would this rancid, God forsaken house anyway?

He had made his way to the closest bar to his home. He soon arrived. Severus plonked himself on a barstool, with his head in his hands. He shook his head at his own rhetorical questions. He just desired his mind to shut off for a little while, just to stop.

This is one massive mess. What sort of predicament have I encountered myself in? More importantly – what the fuck do I do now? He thought, then producing a sigh out loud. It was all one massive mess; the girl was a mess; Albus had ruined it all, that moment. They had both been happily cozied up, and just…just got lost in the moment. How was Severus supposed to look Hermione in the eye now - and how was he supposed to help a girl when he couldn't help himself.

The War was over: his liver was fucked from all the alcohol, his spine and nervous system was fucked, his skin was sallow and his head was fucked from the childhood he had, the bullying from Potter's swine of a Father and his cronies, and The Dark Lord was to blame, too. Who was he kidding? He could not look after her! He was too damaged to look after himself.

Why could I even think I could look after you, Hermione? Severus thought to himself.

"Everything's fucked!" Severus verbally whispered out loud; it sounded more like a jittering mumble to anyone listening, he then lifted his head to order a drink - another whiskey chaser. His random outburst earned him a strange look off the Male bar tender. To be honest, Severus was sat in a rather dingy Muggle pub; situated in Manchester, not far from Cokeworth. The pub itself had bleak, dark decor and was falling to pieces. The putrid brown wallpaper was peeling off most walks, the obnoxious red pub seats were bulky and dominated the pub's floor, and the bar itself was scratched the hell out of it; Severus was convinced he could see a bullet shit within the wood top.

Besides the appearance, the whiskey's bloody good here! He sipped down the remains of his glass, before slamming it on the counter top. He thought it was best he moved away from the bar tender after the look he was just given. He ordered a beer then and skunk into one of the garishly large, but ugly pub seat. He sipped at his beer and began to think again.

That night... I had been on the piss, I had even met Lucius for a few, hence the destination of Knockturn... But a clever little Gryffindor – Why would she dare step on that evil street? Severus began to question in his mind Hermione's purpose of being in Knockturn Alley that night. Looks like Hermione would have to answer these questions when Severus returned home... but, he needed to sleep the drunkenness of a bit, sober up. He soon downed his pint and stumbled home

Hermione was not in Severus' bedroom, so he did not see her; he guessed she was on the sofa. He just flopped down on the bed and passed out. The side effects of too much alcohol!

XXX

Meanwhile – as Severus was at pub – Hermione was sat on the sofa curled up. She had spent to majority of the day in the same position, she did not know what to do with herself, and on the upside she had a large book on her lap. She was not reading anymore, though; her thoughts dawned on Severus and his actions this morning and last night towards her.

It was all as if a Dementor had come along and gave Severus the Kiss of Death. All the compassion he had shown her – gone; all the gentleness – gone; and all the physical comfort he had provided her was gone, too.

He acted as if he no longer cared... What had happened in that kitchen, With Dumbledore? Hermione questioned herself. Hermione stood up and walked into the direction of the bathroom, situated on the ground floor. The person whom cared had left her life again

"Everything's fucked!" She whispered out loud, clearly showing her upset.

Her head began to feel woozy, again. It was happening again. The agonising ache crept up like a serpent ready to snatch its prey, once its teeth had sank into its prey; the serpent released a deadly venom - that is how the throbbing felt in her wrists. Her eyes began to survey the juttering scar etched across both of her small - but pasty - wrists. The line itself was a fading purple colour, rather strong and boldly standing out on both wrists; it was clear the wound was still healing. Hermione had the burning desire to add more scars to her arm... It was a burning thought that did not leave her mind.

Until, subconsciously, she had picked her wand up and gently gripped it tight; she whispered:

"Sectumsempra,"

The incantation - and slashing movement of her wand, on her wrists - had produced four gashes on each wrist. Each wound now pouring crimson liquid out. This made Hermione's had and whole body become paler, and weaker. But, she felt relieved watching the blood drip; all the pressures inside her head had stopped. She had learnt that spell from Harry's textbook; little did she know, a certain Slytherin was the mastermind behind it.

Hermione curled up on the floor; she now felt like sleeping...

Just twenty minutes later, Severus stirred from his drunken state he headed towards the bathroom needing to use the toilet. He used the toilet. Then as he was drying his hands, he saw a bundled up Hermione stained with crimson splatters, and her arm laying limp; she was still trickling blood out if her arm. Severus being an ex-spy had his wand on him - luckily - and pulled the thirteen-and-a-half inches long of dark wood out from his pocket. He whispered a Counter-Curse to remove the spell, which had generated all of this. The spell had been one of Severus' own spell that had created it; he was fully aware of this.

How had she known the spell? Severus thought to himself. Yet another question he would have to ask the poor girl. He scowled with confusion, he really did not know what to do… what was he supposed to do? The limp witch lay in his arms now, she was incredibly weak; Severus decided he was over-head in this situation: he needed help. He carried the Witch upstairs, to his room, he then wrapped a sea of black fabric around her body; allowing the her body to feel some sort of warmth. He then Apperated on the spot…