The world of Harry Potter does not belong to me. There are some parts of this story that are taken directly from the source. If you recognize it, it's not mine.

Many, many thanks to my beta YellowAsphodel.

If you have any negative comments, keep them to yourself. Or as my grandma used to say, "If you can't say anything nice, keep your mouth shut!"

Broken

Chapter 10

July 10, 1996

"Come in, Miss Granger," Severus called wearily. He sat back on his sofa, his back aching. All around the room were boxes filled with his belongings from Spinner's End. "It's nearly midnight. What do you want?"

She entered his rooms quietly and moved to stand next to where he sat. "How did you know it was me?"

He sighed. "Think, girl! Who else would be knocking on my door from the Head of Houses' secret passage?" He leaned back against the sofa, stretching his back, trying to alleviate the pain. "Pomona and Filius are abroad. Minerva and Albus went down to the Hogs Head."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. She looked down at her bare toes sticking out from under the hem of her dressing gown. Quickly, she looked back up at him, so casually dressed in jeans and long sleeved T-shirt.

"Miss Granger," he said as patiently as his nature would allow, "what do you want? It's late."

She blushed. "I, I didn't think," she told him. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I just -" She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. "-I just wanted to thank you again."

He waved a hand at her. "There's no need to thank me," he snapped. "I did what any -"

"No," she interrupted him more forcefully than she intended. She smiled slightly at her nerve. "No, you have gone above and beyond what anyone would have done. You saved me from being kidnapped. You lied to me about my parents' death." She paused, and her face paled.

Severus kept a poker face. "Are you daring to call me a liar?" he asked coolly.

She smiled ruefully. "Perhaps I should say you deceived me instead," she replied carefully, "but I understand why you did it. You were trying to save me pain. For that, I thank you." She swallowed and cleared her throat.

"Are you finished?" he asked gruffly.

"No," Hermione nearly laughed, "I also want to thank you for bringing me some of my personal things. I know you couldn't bring everything; it would look suspicious if all my things were gone." She took a deep breath before adding. "And, I want to thank you for making sure Bellatrix LeStrange and Peter Pettigrew were caught and sent to Azkaban."

He hummed. "I brought you some basic clothing," he answered coldly. "And I helped catch two killers. I did nothing specifically for you."

"Yes, you did," she returned. "Any man who was thoughtful and considerate enough to include my Paddington bear -" She broke into tears.

Muttering to himself, Snape stood and handed her his handkerchief. "Miss Granger," he whispered, "please don't -"

With a sob, the young witch hurled herself at him. She clutched his T-shirt, dampening him with her hot tears. Snape understood all too well what heartache was like, and he allowed her to hold onto him, consoling her as best he could. "Miss Granger," he said once her wracking pain had played out, "grief is natural as are the tears that come with it. Let them flow, but do not let melancholy take root. Depression is a dark and terrible place." He pushed her back, establishing space between them, and folded his arms across his soggy shirt.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes on the handkerchief. "I'm sorry," she told him with a small hiccup, "I didn't mean to fall apart like that."

"Yes, well," he responded awkwardly, "as I said, let your grief have its day, then put it behind you. Keep yourself busy - body and mind. It does little good to dwell on what you cannot change. I know."

"I don't know how," she said. "How do you keep from thinking? From -"

"Sit down," he barked as he seated himself back on the couch. He waited until she had settled on the opposite side. "Miss Granger," he began slowly, "because of your recent loss - not only your parents, but also your previous life, being cut off from your friends - you will experience grief, but it is important not to allow yourself to become depressed."

Hermione swallowed hard and blinked. "How can I tell the difference?"

"Grief is natural, and everyone grieves in different ways," he explained, "but it is short-lived. You may tire easily, cry often, have difficulty concentrating, or experience trouble sleeping. It helps to have someone to talk with. Poppy or Minerva would be excellent choices for you."

"What about you?" she asked softly.

He snorted. "I'm the last person you should seek out for help in such matters," he told her. "I do not handle loss well."

Hermione starred at him quizzically as if he were a giant puzzle to solve. "I think you're all bark and no bite," she told him boldly. When she saw that real anger was building behind his eyes like a storm cloud, she quickly added, "Oh, but I'd never tell anyone. I mean, how could I? I'm dead, remember?"

"Go to bed, Miss Granger," he instructed her, and he pushed her towards his door. "Go to your bed, and go to sleep."

"Hermione," she answered. "According to the Headmaster, I am an adult. My name is Hermione." She stood on tip-toe to be closer to eye level with him, but her Gryffindor courage departed before his stern stare. "Um, anyway, I just wanted to thank you."

He snorted. "Go to bed, little girl," he told her, pushing her out of his door. Just before he closed the door in her face, he added, "And, you're welcome." He stood leaning against the door, listening to her footsteps fading away.

He was tired, tired of caring, tired of trying, tired of it all. He didn't deserve her thanks for merely doing what was decent. Turning, he eyed the piles of books on the floor. To hell with them, he thought angrily. They'll be there in the morning.

Severus kicked a path through his precious books towards his liquor cabinet, stirring up dust. He sneezed twice, and instead of reaching for a tumbler, he took the bottle. Opening the bottle, he paused only long enough to notice the color of the liquid inside. Hmph! he thought. It's almost the color of Granger's eyes.

He turned up the bottle for a long drink before heading towards the sofa. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for long, no doubt a remnant of his dysfunctional childhood. He snorted. Always on edge, never knowing what to expect when Da came home. He took another long swig from the bottle.

The the only thing I miss about the Muggle world, he thought morosely, is watching television. That bubble-gum for the brain keeps you from thinking. It was the only way Mum and I could relax. That was until we needed money for food, and the set had to go. Another long drink from the bottle slipped down his throat. He was relaxing more.

I'll bet Granger watched television with her parents. He chuckled sourly. I'll bet her parents were good, kind, not a dirty, drunken father and a weak, cowardly mum. I'll bet she was loved.

A sudden rage engulfed him, rage and despair. He threw the bottle into the fireplace and covered his face with his hands. That's when the tears came.

July 11, 1996

Severus poked at his chips, moving them around on his plate. His appetite, like his sleep, was eluding him again. He was used to it by now. Lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of a life, what did it matter?

He wiped his mouth and turned to watch Dumbledore load his toast with beans. As the old man dropped crumbs onto his bright blue robes, Severus frowned and pushed his plate away. He picked up his tea and began sipping the tepid liquid.

Dumbledore, swallowed, and frowned at Snape. "Is that all you're going to eat? That's not enough to keep a pixie alive. You're losing weight. Those Muggle denim trousers you've been favoring this summer look like they're going to fall off."

"I'm not hungry," he replied. Severus frowned and continued to sip his tea.

"That's the third day in a row you've skimped on breakfast," Poppy put in. "Severus, you can't keep going like -"

He interrupted her, changing the subject. "Minerva, have you seen Weena?"

Minerva shook her head and set down her fork. "Sosty?" she called.

The little old elf appeared with a pop. "Missy Min needing something?" Minerva nodded her head towards her younger colleague, and Sosty turned. "Master Severus, sir, you needing Sosty's help?"

"Do you know where Weena is? I have called for her several times this morning, but she has not appeared," Snape told her.

Old Sosty nodded. "Weena being re-trained," she replied. "She need lots of learning. Malfoy training bad. Very wrong for school elf." She shot a glance at Hermione, who sat next to Poppy. "Sosty train Weena personally."

Snape cleared his throat. "Thank you, Sosty," he answered politely. "I would also like to thank you for unpacking the rest of my books."

Sosty frowned and shook her head. "No, Master Severus, sir," she said slowly. "Sosty not put away books. Weena not put away books."

"Well, which elf did it?" he requested. "I would merely like to thank him or her. It was a job well done, and I would like to request this elf to -"

"No elf touch Master Severus' things," Sosty stated almost forcefully. "Hogwarts elves know better."

A giggle was heard from Hermione. "It was me, Professor," she admitted.

"What?" he demanded. Snape looked ready to snap her in half. "Did you just say you broke into my rooms and-"

She grinned. "There wasn't much breaking in, sir," she dared say. "Your wards were fairly easy to-" Hermione blanched as she realized the audacity of what she had done, and she began to back-track. "I didn't, I mean, I only wanted to help," she blurted out. "You've done so much for me, and there were still so many books and things you needed to put away, and, well, I just thought we were becoming friends and-"

"We are not friends!" he shouted.

Like a Renaissance painting, a tableau of fearful anticipation, the others froze with held breath and waited her response. Hermione's bottom lip trembled, but there was determination in her soft brown eyes. "After all you've done for me," she said slowly, feeling her way with her words, "I'll always be grateful. And, it doesn't matter whether or not you want to be my friend, I'll be yours."

"You overstepped your bounds, Miss Granger," he told her coldly. But his dark eyes flickered with fear, as they were held by the caring embrace of her warm brown eyes.

She nodded. "Yes, I did," she agreed, "and I'm sorry."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, breaking the tenseness. "Well-intentioned you may have been, Miss Granger," he explained, "but very much in the wrong. You should never be in Professor Snape's rooms; it isn't seemly."

Poppy coughed loudly into her napkin causing the Headmaster to blush. "What the Headmaster meant," Minerva added with a slight smile, "was that you should have asked first." She patted the old man's knee with one hand and Snape's shoulder with the other.

"Again, I am sorry, Professor," she told him. "I didn't think. I just wanted to help, and, well-" She sighed. "I've already re-organized the potions closet in the infirmary, and outlined a course of study for myself and a time-table for helping out Professor Dumbledore, and well, I was bored."

There was something in her eyes that unnerved him, and he stared at her with his black, basilisk eyes. "The books were undamaged, and properly shelved," he admitted slowly. "You are forgiven."

"Thank you," she sighed with relief.

"But!" he snapped, his tone harsh. "But, if ever you do anything so foolish again, I will-" He paused, changing his voice as he tilted his head. "Bored, you say?" An evil grin slowly curled his lips. "Well, you will begin a special summer term, one that will accelerate your sixth year classes. If you are as intelligent as everyone claims, you will even complete your seventh year of instruction. I will be giving you individualized instruction, and you will complete them all before the first of the year." He stood and started for the door. Wheeling back around, he called out, "Well, come along, girl."

Her jaw dropped, and she scrambled to catch up.