A/N: Finally! This chapter has been so hard to write, and it's short! It seemed so much longer on paper :( Thankyou so so much to everyone who has reviewed, it means so much to have positive feedback, even if it's just evidence that people out there are actually reading what I write. Love you all!

Special mentions go to:

Snowieaddz,
Aemos,
Hecate Silvermoon,

and of course,
Des, who has been with ALWL since the beginning :)

*****

Chapter 6 - Understanding

Hermione arrived at Professor Neffler's office just in time to see her friend leave the room. "Professor," she called. Neffler saw her, and gestured toward the open door.

"Come in, I was just going to find you. I guess now I don't have to!" The girl smiled, though hesitantly, almost as if she had forgotten how. Professor Neffler marveled at the difference it made to her face, brightening her features and lifting the normally sunken eyes. When the pair where settled comfortably in soft armchairs by the glowing fire, the professor ventured to ask what had brought Hermione to her office. The Gryffindor took a breath and began to talk, immediately feeling the release of a burden she had forgotten she carried. She told her friend everything; her grief over the loss of her parents, how horrible she felt when she realised how she had been treating Harry and Ron, Harry's obvious feelings for her, even her hatred of Snape and Malfoy. Professor Neffler simply listened and extended a comforting arm as Hermione poured out her heart to the older woman.

"I just want a fresh start," she finished,"I want to wake up tomorrow morning and not remember anything that's happened in the last year." The words sounded oddly familiar on her lips, and she pushed the startling sense of deja vu aside.

"You can't do that, Hermione, no-one can," Neffler said gently. "Your past is a part of you, you can never rid yourself of it. To try and forget a part of your own life would only lead to worse depression. But a fresh start is definitely a good idea! I suggest you apologise to Harry and Ron, and maybe go and talk to Harry about your feelings for him. He'll understand."

Both sat in silence for a little while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Small talk followed, the first friendly conversation Hermione had had in months. Neffler decided against mentioning the trial, giving her time to sort things out with the boys, and herself, before confronting her with such a decision.

Even after the girl left, the professor's thoughts strayed to Hermione. Snape was right, there was something else. Dumbledore knew it too, and must know more than he was letting on. Why else would he all but turn a blind eye to Hermione's condition? Depression was serious, she had already proven that. It was not like the headmaster she knew, at all. So many questions...

*****

"Damn!" Hermione cursed, fumbling for her wand. She had finally gotten around to a bit of rest and relaxation, and had promptly dropped her book out the open window. Dropping to her knees, she crawled to the edge of the window seat and tried to see where the book had landed. A trembling hand crept up to brush away the sweat already obscuring her vision. Ever since the night on the tower, Hermione had become very wary of heights, not entirely trusting herself around them.

"Accio book!" she shouted at the ground 50 metres below her. A small, leather-bound object came flying up at her, and she jumped away from the window to allow it in. Hermione frowned. This was not her book, it was a diary. Her diary, she realised when she discovered her name printed neatly on the inside cover. It was dated two years back, and for the most part was filled with trivial entries noting due assignments and idle comments regarding friends and teachers.

Towards the end of the year, however, the diary became more of a journal than a to-do list. Entries were lengthier and more personal; Hermione felt herself reliving every moment of her early sixth-year life. Then she came to the day her parents died.

Involuntarily, her hands began to tremble as she slowly turned the pages, feeling for a second time the shock, denial, and despair that followed the deaths of her mother and father. Here the thin parchment was tear-stained, and the black ink was smudged. Still she read on, watching herself slowly come to grips with her loss.

It was in the Christmas holidays of that sixth year that she first noticed the peculiar feeling that haunted the pages. Unlike the happenings of previous entries, these events were becoming more and more unfamiliar, almost alien to her. Hermione frowned and continued to read, the lack of memory frightening her. The further she went, the worse it got, until she had no recollection of the experiences she had recorded less than a year ago.

Then she found out why.

*****

A memory charm. Of course, how could he have been so blind? Snape glanced sharply at the bushy haired girl sitting quietly behind a simmering cauldron. She was certainly bright enough to cast one, in all probability she was the cleverest witch Hogwarts had seen for decades. He sighed as he watched her whisper instructions in Longbottom's ear.

"Detention, Miss Granger, 8 o'clock," he said lazily. She glared at him, but otherwise did not respond. Next to her, Potter and Weasley broke out in angry whispers. He sneered. "Potter. Weasley. You will join Miss Granger if you do not cease your useless prattle." The boys shut up, knowing full well that a warning given by the Potions Master was unusually lenient. Snape settled back in his chair, and took another look at Granger. The girl was outwardly studious and intelligent, yet inwardly, he knew, unstable and depressed. She reminded him so much of...his stomach gave a sickening twist.

She reminded him of himself.