Hermione woke up in a cold sweat. Ron's death replayed in her dreams repeatedly. She looked over to the bed to her left and saw her old potions master staring at her. She gasped, not realising that he had been in the bed next to her. He turned over immediately, avoiding her gaze.

Hermione's brain went into overdrive. Now that she knew everything he had done for them, she was seeing him in a different light. It had been no wonder he had been such a bitter man. Harry's father had unwittingly taken away everything Snape had ever loved. Snape had unwittingly given Lily her death sentence. The guilt must've driven him to near madness. He'd spent the last year being accused of murdering Dumbledore, when Dumbledore had practically forced him into killing him.

Yes, Snape had played his part so well, he had fooled so many people, no one ever knew where his true loyalties lied and after Dumbledore's death both sides believed him to be Voldemort's man through and through.

After lying awake for some time, Hermione decided to go down to the kitchens and seek something to drink. The house elves were already busy preparing breakfast and were more than happy to give Hermione a glass of orange juice. Once she had finished, she asked for a cup of coffee. They happily obliged, and five minutes later she was entering the Great Hall holding a steaming hot mug. She walked past her own bed to Snape's. He was lying on his back staring at the ceiling, emotionless. She placed the cup of coffee onto his bedside cabinet, and returned to her own bed without saying anything. She couldn't think of what to say and doubted he wanted a conversation anyway.

Snape glanced at Hermione as she climbed back into her bed, and drank the coffee down. He was silently grateful for this act of kindness but did not want to show it. He didn't want to even be here and was looking forward to being allowed home. The healers were insufferable, but even he hadn't felt strong enough to go home yet, as much as his stubbornness wanted him to. He'd been sure he was going to die in the Shrieking Shack, and had made his peace with the world, now here he was lying in the Great Hall wishing to be home alone, wishing he'd been left to die. Now Potter knew everything about the past that he'd fought hard to try and forget. He'd never felt as vulnerable as he did right now, and he hated it. He'd spent so long with his guard up and he'd come to feel safest when he was deflecting attention away from himself by pointing out other people's flaws.

People around him were beginning to stir. He glanced to his right, and saw Hermione climbing back out of bed and leaving the Hall. More than likely, she was going to continue the rebuild. There was a part of him that wanted to help, but he was under strict bed rest orders. He wasn't one to adhere to such nonsense, but on the occasions he had attempted to leave his bed without help, he had felt incredibly light headed and dizzy. He was smart enough not to attempt to work through that.

He spent the rest of the day reading books brought to him from the library by an overly cheerful healer. He didn't want to read these books, but it was the quickest way to pass the day. It wasn't like he could do much else.

Darkness had fallen before Hermione returned to her bed, and Snape pretended to be asleep. He did not want to be engaged into conversation.

He heard her settle, and he chanced a glance through half opened eyelids. The moonlight shone on her face and he was sure he could see tears rolling down her cheeks. It was not long before her silent tears became wracking sobs. He felt awkward and unsure how to react. He felt a twinge of guilt at leaving her to deal with her pain alone. He had heard about Weasley's death, and he could fully relate with Granger's pain.

Eventually, the sobbing subsided, and Snape could see she had fallen asleep. He himself turned over and tried to sleep himself. He had much difficulty and eventually opted for the sleeping potion the healers had left for him.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep for when he was awoken by a blood-curdling scream. He sat bolt upright in his bed, looking around for the source. He didn't have to look far.

Snape leapt out of his bed, and gently shook Hermione awake. Her eyes opened suddenly and she leapt backwards in her bed, almost falling off in the process, if it hadn't been for his arms holding onto her.

She began sobbing almost immediately, and Snape awkwardly held onto her, trying to calm her down. He looked around the room mindlessly, noticing that over the course of the last few days most people had taken to leaving the castle at night.

"Professor Snape…." Hermione muttered after some time.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he whispered, looking down at her.

She inclined her head so she could look at him as she spoke.

"Why are you here? On my bed…?"

"Well, you woke me up. You had clearly been dreaming vividly. You were screaming, and I wanted to make sure you were ok."

"But… You hate me. You've spent the last 6 or 7 years belittling us, ignoring us or else taking points from us."

Snape looked at the floor for a moment, considering his answer. He had never really hated her. She had been one of the better ones. But he would never have shown any sort of kindness to anyone who reminded him of his childhood.

"I have a sleeping potion you can use if you are having problems escaping your nightmares." He stepped over to his bedside cabinet and picked up the bottle he'd used himself that evening and handed it to Hermione.

"You don't need much," he continued. "Just a mouthful should do the trick. Any more than that and you'll sleep far longer than is considered healthy."

Hermione, noticing the deflection from her previous statement, opened the bottle and took a sip and almost immediately felt the effects. Her eyelids were drooping and she felt overcome with drowsiness so deep that she felt she had not slept for a week and that she could sleep for longer than that.

Snape saw her body relaxing and took the bottle from her hand and set it back upon his own bedside table. By the time he turned back around, Hermione's breathing had become deep and even. He pulled the duvet over her to keep her warm before getting back onto his own bed and taking his own sip of sleeping potion.