Hermione had well and truly avoided Severus for the past three weeks. She would sit in her room and wait until she heard him leave their chambers before emerging to go about her day. The only time they even fleetingly saw one another was at meal times in the hall. He would catch her eye and she would tear away from his gaze, never to look up towards him for the rest of the meal.

He didn't actively seek her out either, and that was fine. Truth be told, he felt embarrassed for what he had said to her down by the lake. He was her husband. He was supposed to be on her team and treat her with respect and instead he let his emotions take over and control him.

Hermione kept to herself mostly, sitting alone in all of her classes and taking her meals distanced from others. She didn't mind living in solitude. It gave her time to be with her thoughts and if she were honest; it was quite peaceful not having to deal with others and their drama. Of course, what Severus had called her and said to her played daily in her mind and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a dressing down?

Mewling Quim, she repeated in her head daily. Did what she say really warrant being called such a vile name, or was he just totally unhinged he couldn't hold his tongue? She sighed sadly as she paced her room. She wanted to leave and go for a walk, but she wanted to avoid him so had to wait until she heard him retire to his room, or leave the chambers altogether.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard his steady footfalls and the gentle closing of the door, showing he had left. She strained her hearing to ensure he really was gone. Once satisfied, she exited her room with swiftness, closing the door silently behind her. She realised she was holding her breath, exhaling softly. She took three steps before realising she didn't actually know where she was going or what she wanted to do.

She couldn't stay in her room any longer. She felt as if the walls were closing in on her and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Inhaling sharply, she waited a few more moments to ensure he had well and truly put enough space between their chambers and wherever it was he was going, not that she cared. She just wanted him gone.

She was past the pity party she had been feeling for herself. She was over the anger she felt towards him and finally, she realised, the best thing to do in this situation was nothing at all. Doing nothing at all brought her inner peace. She didn't worry about the child she had to bear to him, nor how that would come about. It was merely a fleeting thought that she had to live with him for the foreseeable future. Hermione Granger had finally learned not to worry about what she couldn't control.

Pulling open her bedroom door, she stepped out as quietly as a church mouse, closing the door equally softly behind her. She thought, as she walked through the sitting room and out of the chamber door if Severus Snape would ever change if he would ever stop partaking in the consumption of alcohol. Yes, she knew it was his coping mechanism, but it truly wasn't a healthy one if she were being honest.

Hermione wondered if there would ever be something between them other than animosity. She pondered if he was the type to love, or if he could ever love her. She shrugged her shoulders high. Whether she was or wasn't the loveable type wasn't of any concern to her.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she traipsed the familiar path to the lake where she liked to sit and reflect upon whatever this was that was going on in her life.

Nearing the lake, she stopped as if she had been shot, standing stock still, nostrils flared as she watched from a distance. She could tell from the silhouette only that Severus was sitting by the vast body of water, staring off into the distance.

Now, she was torn with a moral conundrum. Sit in her spot and pretend he wasn't there, or turn around and go back to her room and stew on the fact she couldn't clear her mind by the lake.

Sighing, she would ignore him as best as she could. She would not change what she did for him and him only.

Tentatively, with slight confidence, she tracked her way to the rock she always perched upon to think. The bitterly icy wind tore at her face relentlessly as she sat down, doing everything in her power to stop her from turning her head to look at him.

She could sense that he knew she was there, certain that he glimpsed her ever so slightly before tearing his gaze away. Perfect. They were both going to pretend neither existed, and that suited her just fine.

She exhaled sharply, trying not to let the cold get to her. Honestly, who did he think he was calling her the names that he had? She was certain the man had lost a sense of himself when Voldemort fell. Hell, he told her he had actually been to hell and was immortal. She snorted at that. The devil. She rolled her eyes.

She tried her best to ignore him but knowing he was there was gnawing at her psyche. She couldn't relax and it was taking every ounce of her willpower not to turn to look at him.

Closing her eyes and taking deep, steadying breaths, she could sense someone or something standing beside her. Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head just so. She knew it was him, of course, it was.

"Are you going to ignore each other forever?" He asked gently, sitting beside her on the large, accommodating rock.

"That's the plan," she sniffed indignantly, turning her head away to avoid his gaze. He had alcohol on his breath again. Of course he did.

"Severus-" She began.

"Hermione-" He said in unison.

Both stopped talking, staring at the other in the silver glow of the moon, waiting for the other to speak first.

"Hermione," he began, again, "I'm sorry if what I said hurt you, but you have to realise I drink because it helps me." He reached his left hand out to touch her arm. Her bare skin was so cold it was as if it were carved from ice.

"You're freezing. Why would you come out here without a jacket or a cloak?" He scolded her, taking his outer cloak off and draping it around her shoulders without a second thought.

"Thank you," she whispered as cold as her skin felt to the touch, unsure whether to accept this at face value or read into it any further.

He paced gently as he thought of the words he needed to say. "I know you probably loathe me right now, and I understand that, but I don't drink because I enjoy it. It's the way I cope. I drink because somewhere along the line I've lost my way in the vast sea that is now my life. I've lived the life they accustomed me to for so long and then that was pulled out from beneath me, leaving me lost and alone in a sea of uncertainty. I've been a puppet for two different men for most of my life. The ministry forces you upon me after I get my freedom back. I'm so lost and confused, Hermione." his voice cracked slightly as his shoulders slumped.

She glimpsed the desolation etched into the lines of his face and the sadness deep in his eyes and she saw a side of Severus Snape she had never seen before. One that was unsure, lost and scared. The air of confidence and superiority that he purveyed was slowly crumbling, and she wasn't sure if she enjoyed seeing Severus Snape the human rather than, well, the Severus Snape the iron-faced professor.

"It's funny, you know," he stated, "technically, even though you don't want to be, you are the only family I have left on this planet. Well, by marriage, anyway." He shrugged his shoulders high as if dismissing that minor fact.

Hermione had never really thought of it that way, and technically, he was her only family as well. Her parents were long gone and no way of getting them back, and yes, Harry and Ron treated her like family but on a technicality, he was it, the only person she had in this world that was technically her family and that slightly filled her with dread.

She stood, his cloak cascading down the length of her body like a black waterfall as she did so, it clung loosely to her shoulders and she was thankful for the woollen material clinging to her body.

"Severus," she whispered, extending a small hand out and clasping his forearm.

He froze, looking at her hand and then at her as if a touch from another was such a foreign concept to him.

"I'm sorry you feel the way you feel, trapped and alone, with no way of coping. We have both been through the war together. I know maybe you've seen and done things I haven't, but I am someone with something in common. I'm a listening ear should you need it. It's odd, after the war you are just expected to deal with everything yourself and move on as if your universe hasn't just been turned upside down."

Pulling his arms from her hand, he grasped her around the wrist and turned her arm over before ever so gently running fingertips over the raised etching on her cold, milky skin. Each letter was legible to his touch and his heart sank a little with the guilt for the marring on her skin. What if he had been around to stop it?

"You've been through a lot too, Hermione. And yet you keep it together without resorting to drinking your life away."

"Only in front of people," she confessed. "Behind closed doors I breakdown quicker than tissue paper in water. I'm always crying," she confessed.

He'd never known the girl to be so fragile. On the outside, she was always so outspoken and confident and never one to let anything get skin deep and bother her, but here she was confessing she was tender and vulnerable behind closed doors. Just as he was, he realised.

Softly, he laid a flat palm over the slur etched into her skin as her arm quivered beneath his touch.

"This doesn't define you, Hermione. What she did to you is unforgivable, but don't think for one minute you are what she has etched upon your skin."

For some odd reason, he felt a pull of empathy towards the girl, knowing she cried behind closed doors over what had befallen her was hard for him to comprehend. He assumed she was fine by the way she held herself and the way she talked, but deep down, she was falling apart just as much as he was.

"Do you get the nightmares, too?" She whispered, slowly letting her guard down second by second as she came to realise maybe, just maybe, she needed Severus in her life just as much as he needed her. The two of them were both lost in the swirling sea that was life, clinging to a life-raft hoping to be rescued.

"All the time." He gently pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and tucked them behind her ear. "I just cast a Muffalito every night so you don't hear anything from your room."

Her eyes grew wide at the revelation. "Me too," she said simply.

Severus was at a fork in the road. A moral conundrum if you like. Did he pull back into his shell again and wipe all the foundations they had just laid, or did he move forward and start treating her as one should treat a wife? after all, why shouldn't he have a little happiness in his otherwise bleak life? Why shouldn't he lean forward right now and kiss her? Merlin knew he was forcing himself not to lean in and touch his lips to her own.

Hermione watched as he battled with the voices in his head and she wondered what he was thinking. The way his hand rested upon her cheek and the angle at which his head had slightly tilted, she could only assume he wanted to kiss her. She pondered if he would allow himself such a small pleasure in life or if he would retreat internally and become unbearable again.

She got it; she did. He had trauma he was dealing with and the way he dealt with it was a far cry from how she dealt with hers.

Mid-thought, she felt his lips press to her own, and her eyes opened wide. The kiss was unexpected but not unwelcome, she felt a warm hand touch her right gently before sliding to her buttock as the kiss heightened.

Her muscles quivered beneath the grasp of his touch as he pulled her closer to him. The bitter cold she felt not too long ago was now replaced by the radiant heat of his body and just as quick as it started, he pulled away, breathless.

"It's getting late," he stated. Pulling away from her as if her skin burned him. "We better get back."

She only nodded slightly, disappointed the kiss had ended, but deep down she knew he dealt with this differently from other people.

The two strolled back to the castle, his cloak still draped around her shoulders, their footfalls silent on the dewy grass. Silently Severus slipped his hand into her own and she smiled in response. Perhaps not all was lost.