Note from Author: This is another attempt at an Idea that has been milling around in the vast expanse that is my head, and I hope it starts to coalesce once it's on paper! Although the story is quite sad in many respects, I also hope to get across the emotive and weak side to Snape. A difficult task, however here goes...

(Also, if anyone knows the real names of Hermione's parents, then let me know please! Thanks!)

Disclaimer: These characters are all those of J.K.Rowling.

Chapter 1:

Hermione Granger gazed out of her large bedroom window which covered most of a side of one of her walls. The world seemed to wind on forever out of her window. House after house after house. It was like some machine had methodically cloned each house and plastered it to the ground, hoping no one would notice the extreme slant of the windows. To be truthful, she lived on the end of a regular cul-de-sac, which had been built with all those other boring and incredibly unsightly concrete estates which intended to decrease the number of homeless people. However, to Hermione, this neighbourhood seemed like an eternal prison. She hadn't been out of the house once that week. All she could do was to mope around the house feeling sorry for herself. She had no feasible excuse for being so, although part of her felt empty. Ever since she left for the summer holidays a month ago, she felt like she had had a large part of her body ripped apart and left at Hogwarts.

She hadn't received any letters at all for weeks. She expected at least a postcard from Ron and maybe even a note from Harry, if his aunt and uncle permitted it. However, she felt that even if she did happen to get a letter from Ron or Harry, it still wouldn't relieve her of this pain she felt. What was more worrying, was she had this very fearful thought that she actually felt sorry for Snape, who had been verbally abused in one of her Potions classes last term. Oh it's only Snape, thought the rest of the class. Only Snape. Of course they were right. It wasn't like Hermione had ever felt any compassion for him.

No, it was all silly. She was being very silly and petty. She got up from the window and went and sat on her bed. She hadn't attempted to do any of her work set over the holidays yet, however she felt what with entering her seventh year at school, that she ought to do something. She bent down over her bed and reached for the nearest book that was lying on the floor. Hoisting it up onto her lap she gave her inward grunt, as if she didn't care about her work anymore. As if she didn't care about anything.

Oh for God's sakes Hermione, snap out of it! Your 17 now, not a silly little teenager. You can control your own feelings now. It's not like he's ever been nice to me. Oh, if only Harry, or Ron, or just anyone would just write to me. I mean, for all I know, they could have been wiped out by a massive earthquake in Ethiopia for all I know. Potions and Herbology, oh yepee, I can't wait!

Admitting defeat, Hermione proceeded to open her book and started to read.

"You know Gerald, I've been thinking lately..." said Emma Granger

"Oh well there's a surprise" interrupted Hermione's dad

"Oh ha ha very funny. No, I'm being very serious Gerald. I've noticed that Hermione isn't being herself lately?"

"How do you mean?" asked Gerald

"Well, usually she's always got her head in a book, studying for some sort of exam. Or if she's not doing that, then she's at least listening to music, or at the cinema or something!" explained Emma

"It could just be a teenager sort of thing"

"Hardly likely Gerald. She's 17 now, she's got past that stage of being in moods. No, I think there's something more to it".

Gerald looked very glum. It was clear that he hadn't much experience with late teenage girls.

"Is that Arsenal vs. Liverpool?" asked Gerald

"What?" snapped Emma

"Oh, look, there's this new stadium they're playing at. It's got a closing roof and all!"

"Gerald? Do you actually have any concern for our daughter's welfare whatsoever? All you can think about is football this, football that."

"Oh, sorry dear".

Having had enough of her husband's lack of interest, Emma Granger left the kitchen and went through to the living room to answer her mail.

That night things in 17 Grundal's avenue was silent. Emma had gone to bed early, annoyed with her husband's attitude, and Gerald had decided to sleep in another room, after having a whole bottle of wine.

Meanwhile, Hermione was snoozing on and off in her room. The days events (or lack of them) seemed to wash over her, like a sea tide breezing over the soft sand. All she could think about was that last week of term. Nothing else seemed to matter. What scared her even more, was that now, she didn't even seem to mind if Harry or Ron didn't even send her a letter. She began to think less and less of them as the day wore on. And more and more of... him. Snape. Several times she tried to rid her thoughts of him. Several times she failed.

She was going to have to face the truth.. whether she liked it or not...

(Well, what do you think of it? If I lose interest then I obviously won't write any more, but an influx of reviews would be helpful. Nice ones are preferable, however if you have any nice criticism then that is also welcome to an extent!)