Author's Note: Hi everyone! I am hoping to post about once a week. I work full time and I'm a grad student so bare with me. I'm studying mental health counseling so you'll probably see a lot of references to the subject. I hope you enjoy my story and I look forward to your feedback.

Disclaimer: All characters and setting belong to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.

Warning: This story includes references to PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, and struggles with addiction. If these subjects are a trigger for you, please do not read.

Chapter One

A clap of thunder sent Hermione flying out of bed and into a fighting stance, wand drawn. The flash of lightning that followed illuminated the terror stricken expression and beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Blood raced through her veins and she could hear it pounding in her head. Thuthump, thuthump, thuthump. Realizing that it was the storm raging outside that had woken her, she lowered her wand and leaned against the edge of her bed. A shaky breath left her as she wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She tried to relax, but her ears stayed vigilant, listening for any change in the noise around her. A chill crawled through her body and she was not sure if it came from the cold stones of the castle or from deep within herself.

The war was over, but for Hermione it continued on. Any loud noise, sudden movement in her peripheral vision, the smell of blood or death, all of it would send her back to the war. She took calming potions during the day, but they made her tired and sluggish. She almost wished she could obliviate herself and forget all of the horrors of the past. Instead, she wore her scars (both physical and mental) as badges of courage, or at least that is what everyone else said.

The first month after the war was hard for everyone. The death toll had been so high when one took into account the number that had died leading up to the final battle and during the final battle itself. It felt like she was going to a funeral or memorial service everyday. Not all of those that had been lost could be accounted for and not knowing and not having a body to bury was worse than seeing the proof for oneself. Slowly the funerals came to an end and the witches and wizards began to rebuild, both the community and their families.

Hermione felt like an outsider, just like she always had. While the rest of Wizarding Britain held on to their loved ones and mended their injuries, Hermione watched from the other side of a glass wall. Watching, observing, but unable to participate. She no longer had a family. She had sent her parents away to protect them, and they would never remember who she was. She would carry their loss; another casualty of the war. She was alone.

Harry and Ginny grew in closeness; they were almost inseparable. They shared their pain and were able to relate to each other like no one else ever would. They both had shared a link with Voldemort, they both had felt the evil within their minds. Through their shared experiences and trauma, they were able to heal. Ron was constantly in a foul mood and nothing Hermione said could fix it. He held her at arms length and eventually she stopped trying. The rest of the Weasley's pulled together to comfort each other over their own loss. The Burrow and its inhabitants welcomed her with open arms like always, but Hermione felt like an outsider, an invader, she did not belong. Her pain was her own to carry. The burrow no longer felt like home. She stayed for a little while after the war ended, but the pain was too much. When she heard word that they were going to start the reconstruction of Hogwarts and needed volunteers, she left.

And here she was sitting in a cold dark room. Alone. Alone and crying. She had not noticed the tears making their way down her cheeks until a stray tear gathered itself in the corner of her mouth. Salty. She wiped her face and sniffed to keep her nose from running. She knew she would not be able to fall back asleep, so instead she pushed herself from the bed and made her way to the adjoining bathroom. She turned the faucet to the bath on and stripped her clothes from the day before. The sweat on her skin caused the material to cling. She still slept in her day clothes, a habit from when they were on the search for horcruxes.

Hermione lowered herself into the bath, the water coming up to her breasts. The smell of lilac and rose engulfed her. The warmth of the water relaxed her muscles and her mind. She slid lower into the bath. The water lapped at her skin and lulled her back to sleep.

Hermione woke with a start, her heartbeat rapid. Quickly glancing around she realized she must have fallen asleep in the bath. The water was cold. Hermione stepped out of the tub and grabbed her wand that had sunken into its depths. She drained the water and summoned a towel from her room. The tile floor was cold. Everything was cold. She cast a warming charm, but it only did so much to chase away the chill within her body. She cast another charm to dry her hair. It left it frizzier than normal, but it was better than it being wet. She dried off the rest of her body and put on a pair of jeans and a sweater.

Standing in front of the mirror as she brushed her teeth she studied her reflection. Her cheeks were hollow and her frame was thin, her clothes hung like drapes on her body. She had lost a lot of weight while on the run from the limited access to food and she had yet to gain her appetite back. There were bags under her eyes and her once glowing, honey colored skin had lost all its warmth. Her fingers traced a spider web of dark ink that peaked out above the neckline of the sweater. She'd received the scar from Dolohov during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. For such an evil curse it had left such an enchanting scar. There were times she swore it changed color, but she dismissed the idea, believing it to only be a trick of her mind. She wished she had known what curse Dolohov had used, but since he had been under the effects of a Silencing Charm, she would never know.

A grumble came from Hermione's stomach and with a glance out the window she registered that it was well past breakfast time. She pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail and made her way towards the kitchens. She tickled the pear and it transformed into a door handle. A room of big eyed, floppy eared creatures was revealed, all eyes were on her.

"Miss Hermione! How may Winky and friends be of service?" Winky looked up at Hermione, excitement running through every cell of her being. "Winky is glad to help Miss Hermione."

Hermione stood there awkwardly for a moment, still not completely comfortable with the servitude of the house elves, or all of their attention either. "Just some toast if it isn't a bother. And blackberry jam if you have it."

"No bother at all, Miss Hermione. Winky is happy to serve." In an instant the toast was on a small platter and being handed over to Hermione along with a tumbler of orange juice. Hermione gave her thanks and turned to leave. "If Miss Hermione ever needs anything, she can be sure to call on WInky. Winky is always glad to help, even at night." The door shut behind her.

Hermione took a bite of the toast and levitated her dishes so that she could unstopper a vial of light blue liquid. She downed the contents and placed the vial back into her pocket. She finished off her breakfast as she walked towards the headmasters office, currently occupied by Professor Mcgonagall, and vanished the dishes back to the kitchens. Taking the calming potion on an empty stomach led one to being violently ill, Hermione had learned this from experience.

As Hermione rounded the corner to the headmasters office she could hear two voices, one was Professor Mcgonagall, the other was raspy, but something about it seemed quite familiar, she just could not put her finger on it. Although the two were not yelling she could tell that they were having a disagreement. She thought about turning around and coming back later, but her curiosity, like always, won.

Rounding the corner, the two figures came into focus. Emerald green robes adorned one body, who she quickly identified as Headmaster Mcgonagall, and the other was shrouded in black. Hermione stopped immediately in her tracks, "Professor Snape?"