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One month later (Early days of September)

Hermione gazed at the newspaper stand and watered her lips. She reached out and took the morning edition in her hands embarrassed to look so needy in front of strangers.

'That will be one forty Madame' the seller pointed out when she opened it up without making any attempts to pay for it.

Her eyes flickered up, momentarily confused 'Yes, of course, wait,' she reached in the pocket of her raincoat and brought up some change. She offered her open palm to the seller and he winced, bothered that he had to count the money himself.

'Thank you' he said half heartedly when he sorted her change out.

She nodded absently and tucked the paper under her armpit. She walked slowly the main road of the village that led down to the small pier. During full tide, the river filled up the small corniche and the fishing boats floated idly for several hours. Letting the saunterer enjoy the serene splashing of the water. When the sun downed low tide would slowly draw back the waters, revealing a muddy sea bed full of molluscs, and the small fish boats would end up resting on their sides, looking as abandoned and lonely as she felt inside. She had created a proper ritual during her days there. Buy the morning edition, get a cup of coffee and occupy a bench in front of the boats till noon. Then she returned to Harry's cottage, cooked something easy and sometimes skipped lunches in favour of a long midday nap. Afternoon found her cleaning out Ginny's small garden and getting acquainted with an elderly woman next door that brewed amazing tea and baked incredible biscuits.

Late evening always found her musing darkly on the resting fishing boats and feeling her stomach sinking slowly in despair. Her face that had been controlled in formal pleasantries all day long, at night emptied out and her eyes became haunted. Then she would return with heavy deliberate steps to Harry's cottage and try to sleep, missing on most dinners. Even though sleep during noon was easy on her and much needed, sleep during the night was almost impossible and ended up with her haunting the house like a ghoul from hell. Returning to her newspapers and going through them again and again until her eyes were stinging from fatigue. Only during the small hours before the break of dawn would her tired body give up and let her rest sitting upright in some easy chair or lying face down upon the newspapers.

When she woke up next morning her face was etched in lines of worry, her eyes bore dark circles and her obvious weight loss was making her look far older than her real age. She felt used, inside out and she was unable to hide it.

Her vacation in this serene village, dragged out long and hard. Her loneliness and the inability to confide to anyone, was pulling her slowly into depression. The worst thing was that she had no idea that she was withering under the dark shadow that lingered above her like an ominous cloud. She thought she was tired of everything that happened during the last months and all she needed was some time off.

That morning she religiously followed the familiar route and ended up on a bench overlooking the fishing boats. Her hands opened up the newspaper on page four and began shaking. Her heart missed several beats when she saw his face again in another article detailing his life. Usually the photographers chose older picture from his school days, but this one was the most recent. The one they took outside the gates of Hogwarts, with his hair flowing around his dark eyes dramatically and his sleeve pulled back to reveal his dark mark. She looked at his intense stare that was commanding her in silence to look at him. She winced and her lips curled up in disdain. Was he as imposing in this picture as her mind was telling her, or was being in love doing nasty things to her perception? When she felt the welling of tears, she drew in a deep breath and tried to stop another emotional breakdown that was sure to ignite her insomnia later that evening.

She was trying to help herself, but she kept failing. She took time off to get over Mark and Severus. She managed the first part easily, but the second was making her life miserable. There hadn't been one bloody day during this month, were she hadn't thought of him. Unfortunately every thought of him was followed by uncontrollable crying, more loss of appetite and even less sleep. Her heart was unable to accept the loss of his love. A love that faded into darkness, because she had been unable to make him love her back. She hated the fact that she was still deeply in love with a man that apparently used her and then abused her verbally. Finally she hated her weakness and her inability to let go of him. It was over. Everything was finished. A month had gone by and he made no attempts to contact her. She couldn't understand that breaking up, felt like a small death. That she needed to go through every stage of grieving before her soul finally felt strong enough to let him go. She wanted it done here and now.

Time, I need time…she tried to convince herself.

She knew that time could fix everything, but during those long sleepless nights that thought was not so comforting. It was driving her mad and breaking her apart. The emotional tornado that went through her during the last four months had made her come undone. She felt a single tear cascading down the side of her nose and hanging from it's edge, not deciding to fall on her lips and disintegrate into nothing. His burning black eyes pierced through her torn armour easily and made her stomach twist painfully. He seemed to be whispering into her mind.

Look at me...

I am looking at you. I cannot stop doing that…she thought and a fresh bout of tears came that made that single tear fall off her nose finally. She let them stain her face, uncaring of who was looking at her. Here she was a stranger among strangers. She didn't mind looking weak and dishevelled.

It wasn't as if life was letting her forget him easily. He had been headlines for two weeks straight and the remaining two an article about him was occupying the second to third page of every newspaper, daily. She read about his impressive exit from Hogwarts and after that she didn't miss on a single newspaper that spoke about him. Indeed the pride she felt when he handled something so difficult, that easily, was overpowered by the despair of their ultimate separation. She wondered what made him face his most terrifying demons at first. In the end she decided that his reasons mattered not. He was claiming his freedom, and that on it's own was wonderful.

Every article she read, she folded into perfect squares and kept it at the side of the kitchen table, instead of throwing it in the bin. Slowly that pile began growing taller and by the end of two weeks she had more than twenty articles piling up. She knocked them off the table with her long loose shirts a couple of times, before deciding that it would be better to keep them in a scrapbook of some kind. She called Ginny one evening at the fireplace and asked if she could use an old empty album for a personal project. Ginny waved her off and told her to do whatever she wished. So Hermione one of those sleepless and haunted evenings, under the light of a single candle in the dark kitchen, began creating a scrapbook dedicated to him. Sipping warm tea and listening to the crickets singing outside her open window she picked up article after article. Straightened their creases and placed them on the album pages one by one. Without magic. Using her fingers and some muggle glue. When she finished with the articles, she embellished the cover with a few shells she had retrieved from the muddy sea bed during low tide. When some mornings, under the fresh light of the new sun she looked at her creation, she wondered what made her create this sad abomination.

It makes me feel better...

This scrapbook was filling up the huge void he left behind when he decided to leave the wizarding world once and for all, for destinations unknown. No one had any news from him, or for him. The last bit of news came from the Ministry as an official announcement that Professor Snape was working for them now, but was not residing in England. What kind of deal was struck between them remained a mystery to everyone and was not leaked at the Press. When she read that article her fingers numbed down and her stomach dropped into icy water. That night she didn't sleep at all. Not even at the break of dawn from exhaustion. Her mind tried to draw routes around the world, to his possible new abode. Everything outside England seemed too extreme for the dark, brooding but always prudent Professor. Her mind took her away into magical rides all over the world. In Asia, Africa, South America, even Russia. She tried to feel a place suiting him more than home and failed. She always failed and then tears stained her face again and she felt mad at herself for taking precious time off gardening to muse about his whereabouts.

Apart from that foreboding article that bespoke of his final departure, Ginny gave her the last bit of informal news about him. She described at Hermione exactly what Snape did for Harry before leaving. He appeared in front of her friend, without any fear or remorse about the past and cleared up Harry's questions. That gallant behaviour picked on many sensitive strings of her already broken heart. He denied to reveal Hermione's involvement in Harry's case. He protected her as much as he did when that embarrassing event took place between them at the hospital. When Ginny told her that Severus gave Harry, Lily's token, her heart rejoiced and flared up with a small spark of hope, which was ruthlessly crushed under Ginny's following words.

She shouldn't have been so surprised when he denied to reach out to her. She was more than unwilling to reach out to him after that despicable way he treated her also, but the disappointment was palpable. Ginny told her that he was crying when he refused any further involvement, but Hermione pushed that painful information to the back of her mind and told Ginny that it was for the best. Feeling partially grateful that her best friend kept her secrets, and at the same moment desperate for those secrets to come out from someone. Needing to see his reactions to her troubles, but not wanting him to come back from pity. The conversation with Ginny pained her so deeply that her emotions found defensive ground in anger. She bashed Ginny's tries to reason with her and commanded her to keep away from him. Ginny shook her head in despair and whispered 'I don't know where to find him anyway my darling. I don't think he is in the wizarding world anymore'. Hermione knew Ginny was right and to her chagrin, even if she wanted to find out where he was, it would simply be impossible. Ginny begged her to return so they may try to find out where he went together. Hermione refused point blank. She was not ready to beg for the attention of a man that wanted nothing to do with her. Some threads of dignity were still hanging from her threadbare existence. Ginny looked at her with sad eyes full of disappointment.

'You are so mistaken about him,'

Hermione extinguished the floo connection without an answer and hollered all the way to the bathroom where she threw up the few fruits she had consumed. Then she dragged her wasted body into the bed where she cried for another hour, before passing out from exhaustion.

After that she never spoke to Ginny about Severus. Unfortunately with each passing day she couldn't help but regret how easily this imposing man came into her life like a hurricane, swept her off her feet, redefined love for her, and then slipped through her fingers like fog.

She felt the wet breeze of the first days of September ruffling up her long hair and her eyes gazed at the boats floating, as they slowly dried from their tears.

I am going to keep on trying until I manage to get over this…she thought and her brows creased thoughtfully.

Today she passed most of her morning packing up her few things. Then she cleaned the small cottage from top to bottom and watered the beautifully arranged garden. She baked some cookies of her own and took them to Mrs. Elena, her neighbour and they enjoyed their tea together. Tomorrow she was going to apparate in front of the heavy gates of Hogwarts, to resume her post as Potion Mistress. Maybe returning back to the school curriculum and the everyday routine of teaching, would help her. In this cute village she was doing nothing apart from keeping vigilance to his memories. Idle hands are the devil's workshop, her mother used to say. Going back would surely help get her mind off the past. She needed to concentrate on her work and she intended to do that thoroughly.

Minerva informed her that Mark had been fired and to everyone's surprise Sybil Trelawney had resumed back her old profession. She felt a timid longing to get busy again with her colleagues and her students, instead of gathering articles about Severus. The tranquility of this village didn't assist her burning heart. The hormonal explosion that would overtake the halls of Hogwarts would probably do the trick better.

When Ginny learned that she was getting ready to return she offered to meet her up with a friend of hers, recently arriving from Romania to go through some seminars on Dragons. He was working with her brother and Ginny presented him as a very interesting and kind young man. Close to her age and to her interests. Hermione shook her head in denial. Unless her heart closed down completely for Severus, it wouldn't be able to open up for anyone else, no matter how admirable they might be. For the time being, she found it impossible to think about men romantically. Severus's verbal abuse and Mark's physical combined were enough to keep her off the dating market for many years to come.

She reached into her pocket and dug up a crumbled advertisement of some heavy moldboard plow. She looked at it's empty back and found it adequate. She balanced it on the newspaper and found a small round nosed pen. Her inner control freak wanted to take out her wand and sharpen that nose up, but she told it to shut up. Her jawline gritted decisively and she gazed at the mesmerising motion of a fisherman that was unravelling his long nets.

'I will be there tomorrow morning. Kiss Harry and the kids for me,

All my love,

Hermione'

She wrapped it up and pushed it deep in her pocket in order to floo it later from the cottage. She leaned back and her tight shoulders loosened up a little as the water glistened under the bright sun. A few fish jumped out of the water to eat some bread crumbs that a kid threw over as she was passing along the piers with her grandfather. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, enjoying the fresh air.

It is time to move on...she thought and softly nodded in accordance to her thoughts, feeling her eyes drying up and her breath calming down. Her fingers this time didn't fold Severus's article neatly. She crumbled it with tight fingers and had to keep herself from tearing it apart. She gazed loftily at a small garbage bin a few feet away from her and aimed. She fired and the crumbled up newspaper landed in it. Feeling satisfied, she decided to leave that sad scrapbook back at Ginny's kitchen table and forget about it. It was time to move on, or else she would fade away into nothing.

A new beginning...for all of us...

A/N: A small update on Hermione. It should have been uploaded with the previous chapter, but I got confused and left it out. So here it is now. More to come soon. Thank you for the patience.

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