Disclaimer: No person or content you recognise belongs to me, I have simply borrowed it from the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling.
Hermione Granger felt a curious combination of emotions ranging from joy to distress as she stood before the cream coloured bricks of platform nine and three quarters. For long months after the end of the war, she had woken up each day and looked at her list. It read-"Pro's and con's of returning to Hogwarts". On the one hand, she desperately wanted to finish her education and aside from that she enjoyed learning almost as much as breathing. On the other, just the thought of the dark looming spires of the castle sent her mind into lockdown.
The war had taken from many people, some more so than others. Hermione had lost her parents, friends and apparently, a good chunk of her sanity. She was perfectly fine, until she had been alone with her thoughts much too long, or until nightfall. The young woman winced, thinking that her long nights studying alone in the library were most definitely over unless she could beat her demons. Harry and Ron had opted against returning to finish their final year. Harry had almost immediately accepted the position offered to him as an Auror, but Ron declined in favour of attempting to stay home and rebuild his now broken family.
Most of her year group had chosen to return, including Malfoy and a few choice Slytherins-though their ranks were considerably less than that of the other houses. She knew this before even stepping on the train, as Professor McGonagall had come to her three weeks prior and persuaded her to take on the position of Head Girl, stating that she was "robbed of her chance under horrific circumstance". There was still a know-it-all spark somewhere deep within her and it glowed at the opportunity for further knowledge, so she had said yes.
Now that she was staring Hogwarts, and her own problems right in the face, she cursed that little spark. With one more deep breath, Hermione ran right towards the centre of the wall and onto the platform.
Severus Snape awoke on his couch sometime around noon, a deep-set headache behind his dark eyes. The remains of some firewhiskey had leaked out over his carpet, probably when the bottle slipped from his hand as he lost consciousness. His jet black hair was sticking up at all angles and he was only wearing one boot. It was a very different look for the usually surly potions master, and one that he despised deeply. He checked his watch and swore, he was fast on his way to being late for the students return to Hogwarts.
After a brief, impersonal shower the man was apparating to the gates. He looked up at the castle and let out a soft groan, why the hell had he let Minerva convince him that this was a good idea. Letting his expression settle into a deep glare, he strode across the grounds with his cloak billowing around him. There weren't as many first years as usual, probably not even half. He wasn't surprised. Parents heard rumours and though his 'heroics' had been proved; they were still reluctant to send their children into the midst of a murderer. He didn't care.
Any scrap of emotion had been tortured, cut and bled from him over the years. Severus viewed it half as a punishment for his foolish choices in life and half as a sacrifice well made for the sake of those he had a hand in saving. His heart betrayed him with a gentle pang as he thought of the people he couldn't save. He scowled deeper and allowed his eyes to wander around the room. Many students had returned as 'eighth' years, but only one third of the Golden Trio remained. She didn't look particularly well. Whilst her hair was sleek and groomed as he had never seen it, the deep bags below her eyes and the way she picked at her food told a different story. Not his problem. Thinking that he had done enough of the saving, Severus Snape went back to his food.