Severus Snape POV

Severus had spent the whole of Hermione's academic career sneering at her uncontainable desire for learning, ridiculing her eager attitude, and mimicking her apparent love of the sound of her own voice. He had called her a know-it-all, despite knowing how easily those words could etch into a person's psyche. He knew exactly how those words hurt her, he had pointedly ignored the taunts of Draco and his cronies and treated her with total derision.

Almost every instance of his cruelty came to the forefront of his mind, as he sat, bound to a chair, in a large courtroom in the bowels of the Ministry. Severus watched her, little Hermione Granger, as was, a woman now. A woman that held her head high as she sat, dutifully, next to the wizard she had appointed to defend him, undeserving him, at his trial, a trial that her yelling had ensured he would get. Hermione had traded the pathetically small amount of kudos, all she was ever likely to get from her participation in the war, and used it for them.

Severus could have lived all of his days again, and still come out confused by the turn of events. In the course of his existence he had only read people wrong a handful of times, he was acutely aware now of how much he had underestimated the bushy haired witch, and how he would never be able to repay her for the loyalty she had shown him. Loyalty that had come entirely free, he had certainly never earned it, loyalty that she had suffered for, both through scarring and torment, and now from the growing mistrust of society. Severus knew a thing or two about fealty, as a man with two masters for most of his life, he had tolerated watching it be measured and tested daily, and yet here was this woman that had earned his in return. As well as his trust, his respect, and she had done it by giving him hers first, without ever asking him for anything, without even expecting reciprocation.

The trials were to be staggered over the course of a few months; his was drawn first. Severus had been brought from Azkaban after his holding there had continued for a month. His previous stay had been just a brief, having only been hauled to the North Sea prison at the end of the first wizarding war for a few weeks before Dumbledore had managed to secured his trial, a trial he never secured for Sirius, he could still hear Hermione muttering in his head. Secured at the front in his chair Hermione approached and they had a brief moment to speak before the three ring circus began. Hermione looked at him searchingly, no doubt looking for signs of mistreatment or madness.

"Cease your infernal pestering," Severus hissed, "I am fine, as far as I know, we are all fine," he drawled. Kindness did not come naturally to him, but he tried, for her. Her steadfast resolve nearly wavered then, Severus had never doubted her strong affection for the Russian wizard, but she was no simpleton. That man had spent far too much of his lifetime incarcerated; she was right to worry about the scarring on his psyche, and his soul. Severus had seen them, the other detainees, albeit briefly. The new barred doors on the cells allowing him to meet eyes, as he was roughly pushed down the corridor. There was no rushing to the bars, no whispering words to pass on, Severus would have dropped down dead from shock if there had been. They may have been imprisoned and diminished, but they were all still the men they had been born to be. Antonin had shifted so he could see him, there had been enough message in that.

The trial was long and rather arduous, it was clear that the Wizengamot were using him as a test case, as none of the current bench occupants had witnessed the previous Death Eater trials. In preparation Severus had submitted his memories to the court, they had been taken by a rather overzealous court official, who seemed to take great pleasure in the malicious ripping of thoughts from his mind. There had been arguing over what to do with him, ridiculously the entitled on the circular benches seemed torn between reimprisonment and some kind of award, Severus wasn't sure which disgusted him more.

Eventually, after three days of pontificating from people Severus wouldn't have spat at if they were on fire, all charges against him were dropped. Hermione stood by his side, uncommonly stoic, as Aurors led him through different departments. He was given back his wand, along with the other possessions he had at the time of his arrest; he was issued his official pardon, which was rubber stamped by the Minister himself, and his record was expunged. When it was all done, Severus shook Hermione off; he wanted, no he needed to be alone. She seemed to understand, stepping away from her place at his elbow, before he lashed out, turning and averting her eyes as he apparated away.

Severus saw the little mask of indifference she had been wearing all day fall off her face as the Ministry passageways blurred away, he wouldn't know it, not for weeks, but that act of failed empathy on his behalf would haunt him for years.

Severus was entirely numb for the first two days. He had made his way to Spinner's End, a dwelling he hated down to the very last crumbling brick. He had nowhere else to go; he had not anticipated living this long. The memories of the crushing powerlessness he felt in the dilapidated house, while still a child, dragged all of his pain to the surface. He was drunk for the next two weeks, with only brief moments of lucidity.

After some time Hermione came and found him, Severus never asked how she located the house, it didn't seem to matter somehow. He opened the door reluctantly one evening, after an infuriating persistent knocking, to find her shivering in the hammering rain, standing on his dingy porch. Her mane of hair was stuck to her forehead, and her jacket soaked straight through. With a long-suffering sigh, Severus retreated within and left the door open for her. He heard it secured shut while he was in the kitchen. He wordlessly made two cups of tea, placing one at the beaten up, round oak dining table, and roughly gestured with his hands, Hermione moved to sit, and he collected his cup. She performed some quick drying spells over herself, and they finished their drinks in silence, the room consumed with the sound of the rainfall lashing against the small house. When she eventually put her cup down, she looked up to face him for the first time since her arrival; Severus expected her admonishment, her rightful ire at his lack of thanks for all she had done for him. None followed. Ruefully, Severus thought that he should be beginning to realise that Hermione never lived up to his expectations, she exceeded them, every single one.

"The Malfoy's," she said at last, "their trials are over."

Severus ran a bony finger around the lip of his cooling cup, letting the movement calm him. He had known they were next, had overheard it spoken of at his hearing. He knew they had treated people badly, Hermione, in particular, had suffered at their hands, but to a degree, they had been the only family he had known for most of his life. Lucius was an utter bastard, but he was also Severus friend, his only friend. He didn't know how to ask what he wanted to know.

Hermione continued despite his lack of outward response, "Lucius Malfoy has been sent back to the prison, though his list of crimes was seen as rather… long, he does appear to still have friends in the right places; his sentence was mitigated to three years," Hermione explained dispassionately.

Severus' hand stilled, three years in a place like Azkaban was nothing to be sniffed at, but he knew the wizard had been lucky, he also knew how utterly undeserving he was of that clemency.

"Narcissa, Draco?" he asked quietly, not removing his eyes from the chipped earthenware, cradled in his hands.

"Harry spoke for Narcissa," Hermione admitted, and Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise, to which she offered him the ghost of a smile. "She lied to Voldemort for him, well, for Draco really, but Harry felt she deserved a less severe punishment, his name still carries quite a lot of weight since the war." It was left unsaid that hers didn't. "Narcissa will be under house arrest for a year, and monitored for five, but she never had to go to prison, and won't ever have to now." Hermione sucked in a breath before continuing, "Draco too, house arrest for a year, followed by monitoring."

Severus felt his body sag in relief, "How?"

"Harry again, and myself, and Ron, all spoke up for him. I hate him," she said decidedly, not waiting for Severus inevitably prodding, "But, while he may have chosen to do some pretty sadistic things to me over the years, he wasn't evil. That prison would break him, and he was just a child, like the rest of us, he just wasn't born on the winning side. He wants to speak to you… he asked after his trial, wanted me to get a message to you."

Severus nodded, he wanted to see his godson too, though he would be asking what exactly he had done to the passive girl in front of him, that would make her label him sadistic, even after all she had been through.

"Not that I am not grateful to you playing owl Hermione, but why are you here?"

She levelled a steady glare at him, "To pull you out of your self imposed exile, and," she bit her lip while she hesitated, "and to ask for a favour."

As it turned out Severus couldn't say no to her, whether it was the sense that he owed her or just the desperation in her captivating brown eyes, he would never know. But, at Hermione's request, he came with her to every trial that followed, sitting next to her behind the defence bench, as Hermione's whole world fell apart.

Rodolphus Lestrange was tried next. As with any salacious secret, news of the connection between himself and Hermione was now widespread in the Wizarding world, and she was already the subject of a few damning newspaper articles. The public had lapped up the reports that one of the 'sainted' members of the 'Golden Trio', had a secret Death Eater father. How easy it seemed for them to turn on her as if she was the left hand of the devil himself. Though Severus supposed, if you could vilify a girl at fourteen for her supposed dating preferences, in a national publication, all other bets were off.

Just like at his trial Hermione sat stoically, her back ramrod straight, her jaw set firmly, as she gazed resolutely forward. The murmurs of the crowd were louder this time, and Severus detected her flinch every now and again, when a spiteful comment would reach them from the assembled masses above, but otherwise she hid it. He imagined part of it was defiance against the world in general, the people she had bled for that now cast her aside so cruelly for nothing more than an accident of birth. Hermione had already confessed she felt there was no point getting angry; it would only get worse later when they found out her connection to Antonin, a point Severus had to concede. In spite of all those reasons, he knew she mostly showed her bravery for the man in front of her. Hermione was a person entirely governed by her own perception of right and wrong, and while her internal barometer may not have matched up to a strict moral or judicial guideline, she applied it unwaveringly.

When Rodolphus entered the courtroom, it was clear that the older man's time in the prison had more of an effect that it had on Severus. His face was hollow, and his hair lank, weight had seemingly fallen off his stocky frame. Hermione rose steadily, making her way to the front, to exchange a few short words and Rodolphus appeared half delighted, half made wretched by fatherly concern to see her there. During their whispered conversation, Severus observed as Hermione laid a hand hesitantly over her father's, Rodolphus' face took on a look of awe at the simple touch, his eyes did not leave her fingers as long as they stayed there. Even later, during the proceedings, Dolph's eyes slid back to the place where Hermione had touched him. How long had it been since someone had touched the man with affection? Had he ever received such a simple comfort?

The trial was long, even longer than his own had been, it took three days alone for all of the evidence to be read, all of his crimes from the first war, and the second listed before Hermione gave her evidence, and submitted her memories to the court.

The deliberation from the assembled witches and wizards in red robes was swift, Rodolphus Lestrange was sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban prison. The man in shackles kept his eyes locked with his daughter from the moment sentencing was announced, to when he was finally dragged from the courtroom. Hermione never broke the gaze, Severus saw her jaw wobble, and her lip trembled, but she kept Rodolphus in her line of sight.

When Severus was able to reflect, much later, he could say with some rationality that the sentence could have been much worse. The crimes of the inner circle had been bad, very bad, and many of their victims had important relatives that needed to be appeased. Minister Shacklebolt was clearly very keen to show that justice was being done. Fifteen years in the lifespan of a wizard was manageable, Dolph would be sixty by the time he got out, and would still not be halfway through his life, but what of his mind, how would that fair?

Severus didn't see Hermione again until Rabastan's trail. Both the younger Lestrange brother and Hermione had insisted that Luna did not sit at the defence bench, and so the blonde took up a place undetected in the crowd. So far Luna's association had been kept out of the papers, and they were keen to keep it that way. The proceedings moved at much the same as they had for his brother, and so it was no great surprise when the same sentence was swiftly delivered.

Severus went back to Antonin's townhouse with both of the young witches that evening, somewhat comforted to find Hermione was greeted by overbearing house elves, that chastised her skinny appearance, and ushered her and 'her guests' into the dining room.

After the three of them had picked at a dinner that had been pushed in front of them, Hermione passed a letter to Luna, a thick parchment packet, that looked to contain a book's worth of paper. The blonde ran her fingers over the elegant script rendering her name tenderly. Severus and Hermione dutifully ignored the tears that fell to stain the parchment in her grip, though the curly-haired witch did grasp at Luna's hand, almost painfully tightly on top of the table, until the food was taken away. After dinner the Ravenclaw left swiftly to head to bed, disappearing upstairs.

"She has a room?" Severus inquired.

Hermione nodded, "She stays here once a week, she says it's for her, but I'm pretty sure it's to check up on me," she said with a mirthless giggle, that did nothing to convince Severus of her contentment. Hermione was too quiet, too still, she had no questions, she wasn't asking why, wasn't complaining about things not being fair.

"Are you getting out much?" he pressed, noticing her pale cheeks.

"I've been out all-"

"Aside from the trials?" he interrupted.

"No, not much," she conceded, "it's been difficult," she hung her head.

"Your friends?" Severus asked politely, that he didn't care for the associations she had was well known, but that wasn't important now.

Hermione raised her face and offered him a watery smile, "They are being as supportive as they can be, it is difficult for them, Antonin… on his list of crimes are Ron's uncles. I cannot expect the Weasley's to forgive him for something like that, and for Neville… it's hard for them. Harry is doing as much as he can, though he doesn't want to come here, and I can't go to the Burrow at the moment, but we have been exchanging owls," she explained slightly defensively.

Severus' eyes moved up the slender column of her throat, and into her eyes, they looked older now, some of their sparkling brilliance overshadowed by her detachment. The bags under them looked like an abomination on her young face, the dark circles having a faintly blue tinge, it should have looked terrible, but he couldn't help associating the colour with muted pansies. Get a grip of yourself Severus!

"And yet you sit out in the middle of the courtroom, in front of all those faces judging you. There is no need to be such a Gryffindor about it, Hermione, you could, remain on the sidelines and not face as much… discomfort."

"I am aware," Hermione sighed, "but I made a promise to myself, and to all of them really, I won't pretend that they don't exist because it's easier."

Severus rubbed his hand over his face, "It's going to get so much worse," he admitted redundantly.

"I know," she responded, looking into his eyes, the wave of guilt that washed over him was almost absolute in volume.

Yaxley's trial was next, and the Northern wizard walked into the courtroom with a casual air, as if he had been summoned to dinner, not to meet his eternal fate. As usual, Hermione moved over to the manacled chair before the evidence began, and while engaged in their brief discussion, Yaxley's rough voice was loud enough for Severus to hear while he sat in his usual place.

"You're looking well Yaxley," Hermione teased. It did Severus good to hear some levity in her tone, he realised with a small start how much he had missed it.

Yaxley's face split into a broad grin, almost wiping the damage of Azkaban from his features. "Don't tell me you've finally developed a sense of humour Granger," he taunted, "and waiting till I'm banged up as well, that's just cruel."

They prattled on for a few moments until the noise around them indicated the start of proceedings, and Hermione moved to take a step back, but before she did Yaxley called her to stop. He spoke in a softer tone than before, a tone Severus wasn't sure he had ever heard the gruff wizard use. "Little duck, you are going to need to fatten yourself up, and get some sleep before it's his turn. If Antonin sees you like this, it will make being sent back worse."

Hermione nodded, a little chastised, and smiled a brittle smile at him before resuming her seat.

That the Wizengamot were determined to see Yaxley punished severely was not in question after only the opening statements, the man had ripped the Ministry apart and set it back up to suit his own aims while in charge of the DMLE. Once again proving that no matter who was in charge, the humiliation of those in power, and appropriation of funds mattered more, so much more, than any number of lives. The defence fought back with their evidence, detailing how much he had done for the war effort, but it was clear it wasn't going to be enough. Reuben could have taken down Voldemort himself, and it would not have mattered, the writing was on the wall.

Still, despite them both knowing full well which way the wind was blowing, when the twenty-five-year sentence was handed down Hermione gasped from her position next to him. When Severus turned to face her and regarded her angry expression he instantly, wordlessly, silenced and immobilised her with a subtle wave of his hand. Hermione could only move her eyes, and she moved those to blaze at him, Severus was steadfast, she would do herself no favours by shouting out her disgust in this room.

Severus waited with her until the courtroom cleared, and only when the last footfall in the corridor had completely vanished did he release the spells he had placed on her. He let her scream, let her hit and kick against him, her soft blows doing almost nothing to hurt she sagged against his form, Severus wrapped his arms around her awkwardly, as she panted hard from her exertions. They stayed there for a time, until she suddenly straightened up and thanked him, rather formally, before running out of the courtroom.

Severus wished she had hit him harder.

By the time Antonin got his trial the final battle had been three months previous, the crowds in the courtroom had waned slightly, though the entire Weasley clan was there to see this one.

Hermione, true to her promise to the man's best friend, had attempted to look after herself in the period between court dates, but she had not been wholly successful. She was still too thin, her eyes to troubled.

When Antonin Dolohov, formidable Death Eater, was lead into the room his eyes sought her out immediately, once the Russian wizard he had been strapped into the wretched contraption, Severus watched as the witch next to him rose up on shaky legs, and made slow progress to the prisoner. Hermione stopped in front of Dolohov, regarding him and for a while, neither of them spoke until Hermione all but fell onto Antonin, her small arms clutching around his neck, and his arms straining against his restraints, cursing when they prevented him from being able to return her embrace. Antonin whispered something to her, but Severus could only make out the soothing tone, Hermione nodded against the crook of the wizard's neck, and the courtroom loudly gasped as he buried his face in her abundant curls. Though many by now had heard the story of how Hermione had run to Dolohov's side at the end of the battle, not many had seen it. With the amount of cameras flashing as she clung to the Russian, it would be discussed in every home in wizarding Britain by morning.

The case went as those before had done, Harry spoke in Antonin's defence, both of his assistance in the Horcrux hunt, and for his rescue at Malfoy Manor. As Harry had been present for those events his memories were submissible, he didn't seem particularly happy to do so, but when the-boy-who-prevailed had got off the stand, he moved towards the desk and gripped Hermione's hand for a moment, while she whispered ragged thanks. He nodded once at Severus and left the courtroom floor, reappearing a minute or two later next to the Weasley clan.

Throughout the deliberation Hermione's fingers twitched on the bench in front of them, and her leg bounced, her constant fidgeting continued until the fifteen-year sentence was delivered, and then she was motionless.

When the Aurors moved to take Dolohov, Hermione abruptly stood up from behind the desk, Kingsley looked as if he would rebuke her but she didn't direct her gaze at him. "I'll wait," she said clearly to the wizard in shackles, as his stare bored into her. Antonin made no response as he was dragged away, but Hermione didn't regain her seat until he was gone.

The crush afterwards in the corridors outside the courtrooms was dreadful, journalists simpering for Hermione's story, wanting to twist her life into some tragic tale of star-crossed lovers, it made Severus sick. Just when he thought he had steered her numb self through the worse of the gauntlet, they came across a cluster of redheads waiting ahead of the apparition point.

Severus tried to stop the inevitable, he tugged on Hermione's arm and willed her to move, but she wouldn't. Instead, she took a step away from him as Molly Weasley flew at her, her face red and her eyes blotchy.

"How could you Hermione? How could you?" She scolded, her voice dripping in raged fuelled disappointment. "I took you into my home, into my family, I thought you would marry my son one day, and all this time you've been with some Death Eater..."

"Mrs Weasley, I-"

"He killed my brothers you stupid girl, have you got anything to say that would excuse that?" Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor "Well, have you?" Molly demanded.

"No, Mrs Weasley," she whispered.

"I didn't think so; now you listen to me my girl," she began venomously, as she pointed a finger at Hermione's chest, "You will stay away from my family, do you understand?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley… and I'm sorry," Hermione finished quietly.

Molly said nothing as she stormed off, gathering her family together before heading the floo. When Severus got Hermione back to the townhouse she tried to push him away when he went to hug her, but Severus was done with her asceticism, he stepped forward to grip her tighter. "Don't be such a fucking martyr Hermione."

"Really?" she said in disbelief coloured with temper, "You are going to say that, to me?"

"If the shoe fits," he drawled.

Hermione stopped fighting the embrace, though she coloured the air blue for several minutes, telling him exactly where he could stick his condescension, Severus smiled for the first time in years.

Severus didn't see anyone, Order associated or otherwise, for a month. He filled his time between drinking hours, selling his hideous excuse for a family home and purchasing a small flat. He got work at St Mungo's, helping with their potions contracts. Whatever moral issues they may have had were overlooked because of his experience. He was happy to take a job that meant he could work behind the scenes, the money was better than he ever saw as a teacher, and he was much better suited to it. Life was beginning to settle for him, until he came home one day and found the tiny form of Luna Lovegood, settled quite happily, propped up against his front door.

"Hello professor," she greeted him dreamily, with a wave.

Severus heaved a sigh while praying to Merlin for the strength to get through the conversation that would follow. "I am no longer your professor Miss Lovegood, nor have I been for some time, what are you doing here?"

She turned to look at him, and he nearly flinched under her crystal blue penetrating gaze. "I'm here for Hermione, you don't want to hear this, but she needs you." Luna stood with a swift motion, and gripped his wrist firmly, "Come on," she called, before apparating them.

The unexpected side-along made him nauseous, and as they appeared in Antonin's townhouse Severus bent over to try and stop his stomach from churning, shaking Luna's dainty hand off his arm roughly. "Miss Lovegood, never do that to me again," he snapped.

She simply walked away, as if she hadn't heard him, bloody meddling nutcase.

"Come on," Luna called over her shoulder, and he cursed himself as he reluctantly followed.

"Why am I here?" he drawled.

"Hermione she-"

"Do spit it out Miss Lovegood," he said, eyes drifting to the ceiling in exasperation.

"We took her to go and see if we could return her parent's memories," Luna explained.

That caught his interest, "We?" Severus questioned.

"Myself and my father."

Bloody hell, he could only imagine that trip, "And?"

"It didn't work," Luna answered shortly, her voice rougher than he had ever heard it. It occurred to Severus that he might have to add another name to the small list of people he had underestimated in his lifetime. He nodded, he had performed the charm himself, and he knew how temperamental any work on memory was, especially considering this had been carried out on Muggles. He had explained to Hermione at the time that the action they took was the only one they had, it was the only thing that would have possibly worked. They were alive because of her, but she had sacrificed another part of herself to ensure that safety.

Severus felt another brick added to his wall of guilt as it occurred to him that Hermione hadn't even asked him to go with them. She would have wanted to, as the caster he might have been useful, maybe she considered that as he had executed the favour she had asked of him, he wouldn't do anything else. Severus couldn't blame her for that assumption that was what his behaviour must have looked like. Hermione wouldn't have known that he had been trying to put himself together before she saw her again.

"She hasn't left the study, Antonin's study, since we got back… it's been two weeks," Luna said despondently.

Severus followed Luna in silence, and watched as she knocked on the door announcing their arrival with no response, the pair silently walked into the room. "Hermione Professor Snape's here," Luna lightly announced, as if nothing was wrong. Severus stood in the doorframe as the little blonde walked up to run her hand over Hermione's hair, as the brunette sat impassively in a high-backed chair. "I'm going to leave you for a moment and speak to the elves about dinner," and with that she turned and exited, leaving Severus and Hermione alone.

Severus twitched his fingers uncomfortably, this was not something he was well versed in, Hermione looked dreadful, she couldn't have slept in a week and she was as skinny as she had been during their trials. After a long pause of indecision, he crouched in front of her.

"Hermione?" he asked gently, so as not to startle her. Despite their entry, and Luna's conversation, she didn't show any sign of being aware he was even there. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes like that of a wounded animal, it made bile rise in his throat.

"Hello Severus, thank you for coming to see me."

Her stilted politeness made him feel ashamed of himself for not seeking her out before, not offering his support. Instead, he had retreated to lick his own wounds. In honesty, he wasn't sure why he had stayed away, a combination of pain, guilt and not knowing how to be around her, how to help.

"You're welcome Hermione," he said eventually.

They sat in silence for the longest time, until fat tears began to roll down her cheeks, when her body began to shake with suppressed sobs Severus leant forward from his position on his knees, and inelegantly placed his arms around her shoulders. The contact opened the dam, and Hermione wept for the best part of an hour. They never spoke a word; he just held her as she let go of the grief she had evidently been carrying for far too long. After a while, Severus sensed her whimpering had stopped, when he looked down to the face beneath the mass of brown curls he found she had fallen asleep, her tear soaked lashes clinging to her too pale face. Severus sighed as he let his head rest on top hers for a second, closing his eyes.

When he had gotten ahold of himself, he pulled Hermione up into his arms, and gently placed her onto the small sofa in the corner of the room, pulling a blanket he found over her. His hand slightly shook as he reached forward to brush some hair out of her face, softly tucking a piece behind her ear, before moving out of the room, taking care to close the door noiselessly.

When he heard the delicate click of the latch, he turned to find Luna regarding him from the other side of the corridor. Severus was in no mood for her all seeing stare, "I'll be back tomorrow," he said curtly, before disappearing down the corridor followed by his customary billow of robes.

Severus came back the next day, and the day after, and the day after that.

A routine became established, and the three outsiders, as Severus privately called them, formed something of an unlikely bond. Luna came over once a week and stayed, and they even spent time at the Lovegood home, where Severus regularly thought he would blow his brains out, but it was worth it to see Hermione smile. He even managed a few quirks of his lips, especially when Hermione tried expressly hard to have a conversation with Xeno about some creature or other.

But that was only the first step, Hermione was struggling. Everything she hadn't dealt with during the war; her torture, the battles, the truth about her parentage, killing Greyback, the deaths, then the trials, the papers and Antonin, all of it was too much for her to process, too much for anyone to process at one time. She was the brightest witch of her age, she should have been out taking the Wizarding world by storm. Instead, she rarely went out, it was a fight to get her to eat regularly, and she was prone to crippling anxiety.

Weasley and Potter came around periodically, when they had time away from their Auror duties. Severus supposed he should give them some credit for that, with the Weasley matriarch still very much refusing to acknowledge Hermione's existence, he knew such things were difficult, but he struggled with their apparent inability to talk to her about the issues in her life. Neither of them ever mentioned Rodolphus or Antonin at all. The first time Weasley brought up a hunt they were on for a Dark wizard, and how they would get what was coming to them Severus had to sit on his hands to stop himself from giving the ginger idiot exactly what was coming to him.

Apart from himself and Luna, all of those people who had been the most support to her had been packed off to Azkaban, and Hermione was expected to be a good little girl and swallow it.

Harry tried a little harder than his friend, came over more often and sat with Hermione more patiently, but he didn't understand her grief. The boy wanted his friend back, but that girl had changed. Even if Hermione had decided to renounce all of them, and acted as Yaxley had expected her to, she wouldn't have just been able to get a job and live her life as if none of it had ever happened.

Following Antonin's trial, as predicted, Hermione's depiction in the press had become even more twisted. They reinvented her as a seductress of power, a broken witch who was drawn to violence and danger. There were calls for her to be stripped of her Order of Merlin, whispers that she may have been assisting the Dark Lord during the war. They made accusations, and called her names, they danced around the subject rather artfully, what they weren't saying was Death Eater whore, but it was all there, in the subtext. The actual words were reserved for when they were out on the streets; people would shove her, or knock things out of her grasp 'accidentally', they would cough words under their breath, or scowl at her when she was paying for something. Hermione never reacted, she kept a wan smile on her face at all times. Severus would use his perfected Potions Master persona, and sneer and hiss at whoever dared treat her in such ways, but Hermione just carried on as if it hadn't happened, until one day he reached his boiling point.

Severus could deal with her grief, guilt and overwhelming pain, but her despondency nagged at him. She wasn't a person built for it. They shouted at each other for an hour, he was unaccustomed to treating people as gently as he had her in the last months, and his entire being rebelled against it. She wasn't getting any better for his soft approach. The argument came to a peak, and he accused her of allowing the treatment of the world at large to punish herself, and Hermione had laughed, actually laughed. He watched on in shock as she raised a hand and said 'It takes one to no one, Severus'. He had stormed out then, unable to face her for a while.

Severus had always been an outsider, that die had been cast from almost the moment he was born, in the way that sometimes just happened with children. Severus was used to the censure of those around him, and he could admit, at least to himself, that there was more than a mere vein of truth to Hermione's words.

He came back to the house a week later, not so much tail between his legs, as eager to pretend it had never happened, what he found however made it clear their argument had had some effect on her as well. Hermione had seemingly been up all night, searching through magical law texts in the Dolohov library, seeking precedents or some such, anything that would help.

"I just want… I need to see him, Severus," she said, eyes wide and pleading.

He nodded, and took a seat next to her, picking up the next book from the pile, Hermione turned and beamed at him gripping his hand tightly. "Thank you, Severus, for your support, for your friendship, for everything."

"Must we do this," he taunted, and pointedly opened his book, though his blustering had no effect on her broad smile.

Hermione's smiles were so odd to him, he reflected later, such freely given emotion, not just from words but her oh so expressive look. He regularly criticised her for her inability to keep a single emotion off her face but secretly, to a man like him, it was her best possible attribute. Severus was from a poor family, in more ways than just the lack of money in their pockets, his parents had been emotionally retentive, there had been no 'I love you's' or shared laughter in his house. It was probably why he had held on so long to Lily, to her memory. Severus was well aware how fabricated that memory was, Lily was no more perfect than any witch, and she certainly hadn't been the right one for him. They would have been terrible for each other in the long term, but she had been his friend, his first friend, until now his only friend. Lily had been a formidable witch, but her world was built on absolutes, she had no comprehension of grey.

Severus looked at Hermione's little form, tuckered out on the sofa after pouring over legal text after legal text, throughout the day. Sometime after the trials, when it looked as if she had hit rock bottom, and needed support more than ever, he had considered presenting her with an alternative. Severus would dream about it often, visiting her, asking her 'Hermione live with me, be protected by me, be loved by me'.

His feelings for the tiny witch had been shifting since he had regarded her in the early morning light, while dropping her at the Burrow. The night he had assisted her with her parent's escape had been fraught with emotion, but she had been so unbelievably brave. Severus had turned back to face her; and she had been standing there in the long grass, with the rising sun illumination the soft golds in her hair, her passionate face still etched with distress. Then, despite the obvious weight on her heart she had smiled wearily and thanked him. Thanked. Him. It was so honest, so pure, so baffling, that the moment had immediately become one of his most treasured memories, though over time the remembrance became laced with hurt as he knew, he just knew, he was lost again.

Severus had thought her young and silly, her crush on a boy like Weasley an indication of her immaturity, she had caught him out again that day, as he regarded her outside the hospital wing, as she stood aside to allow her friend happiness. How she had known they weren't right for each other. Maybe there had been hope for him then, but Severus had never allowed the thought to blossom, and definitely had not allowed it to take root, but it was there all the same.

But then he had seen her with Antonin and that was no childish crush, that was something more, much, much more. Unbelievably those feelings that she displayed on her face were real, returned from a man that Severus hadn't seen so much as blink in the face of a pretty witch before.

Severus sighed as he gathered Hermione up in his arms and took her to her room, to Antonin's room.

It wasn't to be.

He had attempted to bury his disappointment. Painful as it was, he wouldn't abandon her, he could not. In time he hoped his feelings would temper to allow him to enjoy the fullness of his first real, equal, friendship, without the tinge of hurt or sadness.

He was still adjusting to a masterless existence; it was a new experience for him. The first had been his father, at ten it had become Lily, then the Dark Lord and finally Dumbledore, each more disappointing than the last, until her.

Severus had resented her at first, he didn't want to be ruled again, he belatedly realised that he wasn't, it was this that gave him hope for a content future. Hermione didn't command things of him, she was appreciative of him, for the person he was, not who he pretended to be, not who he could be if she changed a laundry list of things about him. She never belittled him; she valued him. It made him think that maybe he should start valuing himself.