Hermione Granger tossed and turned and tried to let sleep lull her into its clutches, but it was futile. She was never going to get to sleep despite every fiber of her being wanted nothing more than for her to shut her eyes and get some rest. She was weary and she wasn't sure how a person could function on the small catnaps she managed every now and then.

She sighed haughtily as she watched the orange glow of the morning sun begin to pop over the horizon the orange rays touching everything she could see. Resigning to the fact she was never going to get to sleep, not when morning was just around the corner, she decided to start her day.

The dorm was empty; she was the only Seventh year Gryffindor girl who had come back to Hogwarts to finish their education. The truth was, she came back because she had no one and she had nothing. She wanted an extra year to sort her life out before being thrust into the big, cold, wide world to fend for her self. She liked being here; she liked the warm feeling the castle afforded her and the feeling of belonging within its walls. It felt like home to her.

Every second of every day she felt as if anxiety was stabbing her in the chest and pushing the air out of her lungs. She felt as if she was always sinking and drowning but she pushed on. She couldn't let everyone know she was suffering. She was Hermione Granger, the strong and the brave. She was one-third of the infamous Golden Trio. She was meant to be best friends to the prodigal child.

Stretching in her bed, her spine popped back into place with a soft click as she threw her legs over the side of the bed and got up, ready to start the day as she always did, with a smile on her face and dread in her soul.

o-o-o-o

Severus Snape eyed the little black book Hermione had left behind. It sat on his coffee table turned whiskey table, who was he kidding, it had never held a cup of coffee in the entire time it had graced his chambers. He knew he shouldn't delve deeper into the book but deep down something piqued his interest and he wanted to know more about the in's and out's of her brilliant mind. He eyed is suspiciously like it was about to burst into flames and it was her intent all along to leave it down there so he would bring it back with him and set the place alight as a practical joke.

He couldn't help but remember back when he had found her, she looked so… sad and a shadow of the former girl he had once had the pleasure (as much as he hated to admit it) to teach.

Picking up a tumbler of whiskey from the table he stared at the amber liquid intently as he swirled it around and around in the glass, watching the small vortex appear in the middle of the glass. He wished he could have shrunk himself, jumped into it and let the power of the tiny vortex pull him under and drown him in its tantalizing clutches.

This would have to be his last glass for the morning. It was already nearing five a.m and he had classes to teach in a few hours. Where he would have to sober up, pull himself together, throw a sneer on his face and front the world until he could slink back into his chambers, pop the stopper of his Ogden's finest and drink again till the sun reared its head once more.

Severus wouldn't say he was an alcoholic… He would just say he used the liquid as a coping mechanism to get him through the days and to deal with the stupidity of the students he had the displeasure of being saddled with.

He couldn't remember the last time he got any sleep, well, any decent sleep that spanned more than the forty minutes his body usually allowed him. He didn't honestly think a person could survive on such little sleep as he did, but to his disappointment, he hadn't keeled over and died just yet. Hopefully soon.

Ok, so maybe he had turned to alcoholism to get him through the days and the nights. But when it was the only thing that could keep a person going, would it be wrong to deny yourself the pleasure of a little warm, delicious liquid to cloud your judgment and rest your mind for a while?

The dreamless sleep potions didn't work anymore, he had taken so many of them he had built an immunity to them, even at the strongest doses that he could brew they would be lucky to make him the slightest bit drowsy.

He had no one to talk to, he had no friends, not since Lucius Malfoy was dragged off to Azkaban, and whilst Narcissa had asked him over on occasion, he didn't feel comfortable spilling his guts to the witch for fear of retribution should he let the wrong thing slip. He knew she was more than annoyed that Lucius was carted off to Azakaban and he got off scot-free to live his life as a free man.

Not that he was a free man, he was a slave to his own fucking emotions and weaknesses and a slave to the whiskey that kept him sane and stopped him from aiming his wand at every student that walks through his doors and shooting off the killing curse.

He sighed; resigned to the fate he would forevermore being existing and not living. Groaning slightly when he realized his first class of the day was Seventh Year potions with Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Draco Malfoy. A small class, but a class that made him want to stab himself in the eyes with a potion stirrer.

Hermione Granger would take over, as usual, telling him how he was wrong and how her way was so much better, and he would let her because he couldn't be fucked chastising her anymore, or anyone for that fact. He couldn't care if every student ran through the castle blasting it to pieces, it would give him great pleasure to see it fall to the ground in ruins.

He picked up the diary and eyed it before slipping it into the pocket of his robes. He would give it back to her and he wouldn't read it… Not this time, anyway.

Bringing the tumbler of whiskey to his lips he drank the entire contents in one sip. Standing up, he caught his reflection in a mirror on the wall. He looked like fucking shit if he did say so himself. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed or brushed in a month, his skin sallow and sickly look, the bags under his eyes were dark. He looked older than he should have, he looked older than he was. He reeked of whiskey and his life was falling apart. All in all, he would say he was living the exact life he had thought he would map out for himself. A lonely alcoholic hermit who only ventured out to sneer at the world when he needed to, and that was fine by him, thank you very much.

A/N: sorry for so long between chapters. I really needed to be in a dark and miserable mood to channel the characters and get them out to their full potential.

-aliamel1