Hermione willed words to come to mind even as they stared at her, dumbfounded, but was left gaping like a fish.

It was Harry who finally spoke. "Well…you know, welcome back, Hermione." His voice was unsteady, and Hermione nearly offered him a seat, he looked that pale.

Hermione shook her head and forced out words. "Yeah, Harry. Thanks. It's good to be back." She hated how tight her throat was, how strained her voice sounded.

Ron emitted something like a guttural grown from beside Harry, which shocked them both. He swallowed harshly and attempted to control his fiercely red cheeks. "How, uh…how are you?"

Hermione smiled lightly, or attempted to, but glanced down. She knew that they knew, Snape had told her. That didn't mean she was looking forward to any heart-to-hearts with them. It was times like this when a female friend wouldn't hurt, and Ginny was too young to be burdened.

"I'm fine. But if it's all right, I really don't want to talk about it." She added the last bit when the curiosity ignited on both their faces. And instantly it vanished, for which she was grateful.

"Of course," Harry said, elbowing Ron in the ribs so that he nodded eagerly. "We won't make you. But listen, we're here…if you ever want to. Okay?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but then thought better of it and stuck to nodding. They did care, which was touching. But somehow, she couldn't imagine herself ever talking to them about it.

Or to anyone, for that matter.

"Come on," Ron said to break the silence. "It's got to be lunch time by now."

Hermione dumped her belongings and quickly changed her clothes. Then, she followed them through the portrait hole and tried to ignore the fear that strangled her chest at the prospect of facing the student body all at once.

-BREAK-

Severus Snape stirred around what was by now a cold bowl of beef stew. Mindless dribble was being spewed around him, at him, on all sides and it was all he could do to block his ears to it. He couldn't care less what Witches Weekly was selling this week.

"Surely your mother told you it's impolite to play with your food, Severus," the Headmaster chimed from beside him.

Snape set down his spoon with a clang of finality but gave no other indication that he'd heard the man.

"What is it, my boy?"

Snape let out a snort of indignant laughter. What was it? He felt guilty. He felt responsible for the amount of scrutiny Miss Granger was bound to suffer. He felt sick every time he thought of attending another Death Eater meeting. And he'd very much like to scream all that at the top of his voice.

Instead, he went with, "I'm fine."

The Headmaster shrugged, not believing a word of it but choosing not to comment. It would come out eventually. It always did.

Snape's anxiety festered when the doors to the Great Hall swung open. A hush fell upon the room as Potter and Weasley hurried towards the Gryffindor table, flanking the sides of a very pale Hermione Granger.

-BREAK-

In one swift motion, all eyes shifted to Hermione instantaneously and conversation ceased to gossip-fueled whispers. She felt her cheeks redden, betraying her, and she shook down curtains of honey brown curls to hide her face. She felt a pressure against her hand and looked down to see Harry's fingers intertwining with hers, and she tightened her grip, forever thankful.

Hermione dropped herself rather unceremoniously beside Ginny Weasley. Harry sat next to her and Ron opposite them. Hermione held her breath and waited for the inevitable questions from the stark white faces around her.

She waited for nothing.

Neville, who looked quite like he'd swallowed a belly full of Hagrid's horrid Treacle Tart, bit his lip before attempting a smile. "Hey, Hermione," he said, loudly enough for tables around him to hear, "I need help with an essay for Transfigurations. Would you mind taking a look at it later?"

Hermione let out the breath she was holding and smiled sincerely at him. "Of course, Neville."

Realizing they weren't about to get any sort of show out of her, the rest of the student body shrugged and went back to fretting about their own trivial worries. And up above at the Head Table, Professor Snape felt his headache abating. And he smiled.

-BREAK-

Life returned to a passable version of normal for Hermione. Harry and Ron didn't bring up the incident again after that first day, and had proven to be terrific sources of distraction for her. She took up flying, and was actually rather good once she'd chosen the right kind of broom.

Additionally, she'd continued her work with Professor Snape after class, the agreement being that she never accompany him beyond the safety wards again. He wasn't as keen to let her forget as her friends had been.

One particular afternoon, Hermione sat above a sizzling purple concoction, sweat beads forming on her brow. She wrapped her hair around a quill to tuck it back and away and glanced up for only a second to see Snape studying her.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Something in my teeth?"

He shook his head when she spoke and came back to reality. "No, Miss Granger. I was merely wondering…you know, how are you feeling?"

Hermione tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and tried to remind herself that he was only concerned before she truly got irritated. "Like I could use a nap. Otherwise, I feel peachy. But I don't think that's what you're asking."

He discarded his own simmering cauldron and swept over to take the seat beside her. "You look tired constantly. There are times I catch you deep in thought, and it's not often because for one thing, you're careful, but it happens. And when it does, I see that you're certainly not fine." He softened his voice when he felt her prickle. "Look…have you put any thought into talking with someone?"

The delicate spin he put on the word someone told her she wouldn't be speaking with just anyone. They'd had this conversation a dozen times in the two weeks since her return and it was growing incredibly tiresome.

"I'm tired because I don't sleep," she said simply, and it was true. It was when she was at rest that her mind was allowed to wander, and it always found her most destructive memories. Twice she'd woken up screaming, clutched by the ghostly remnants of an attack she'd rather not think about, and she'd scared the other girls in the dorm so severely, she vowed not to let it happen again.

"And I've told you, I won't speak with anyone. I'm not being flip, Professor, but I don't need to. I can handle it. I am handling it."

Snape opened his mouth to argue, but steeled himself at the worried crease that appeared in her forehead. He sighed. "As you wish, Miss Granger."

Otherwise, Hermione saw her life finally calming back down. She'd completed the work she'd missed, she'd resumed regular trips to the library. And she was getting considerably better at Potions than either her or Professor Snape had ever thought possible.

So it was with good cheer that she traipsed down the dungeon steps beside Harry and Ron one Monday morning. "It's sickening that you're not completely dreading a double block of Potions with that bat," Ron murmured under his breath. Harry said nothing, but nodded vehemently.

Hermione laughed lightly. "You know I work with him after school. He's a lot more agreeable when you have to deal with him one on one. And I'm getting good at Potions, so stuff it."

They dumped their bags at their usual table and Hermione bid Neville a good morning before going to gather the prescribed ingredients for the Dreamless Sleep they were brewing. She was wholly unaware of the set of steely gray eyes that were narrowed in her direction.

She bid Snape hello with a nod of her head, which he returned, before setting to work in the blissful silence broken only by the simmering cauldrons. It was perhaps half an hour before Hermione doubled over due to a sharp pain in her stomach.

It sent her gasping, and immediately she tried to stifle it, but not quickly enough. Harry whipped his head around to see Hermione bent slightly forward, staring at the ground.

"What is it?" he asked urgently, not at all troubled to keep his voice down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snape's head rise at the commotion, brow furrowed. That was all she needed.

"No, nothing," she muttered, and straightened to prove her point. She'd just set a reassuring smile on her face when she felt it again, only it had moved to her thigh. She kept her lips clamped shut, but couldn't control her leg from kicking out pathetically.

Snape rose at this, and was at their table in a matter of seconds. "Miss Granger, is everything quite all right?"

"Yes, yes, I'm—"

"No, it's not," Harry interrupted, and Hermione sent him a deadly glare. He ignored it and turned to Snape. "She was just doubled over and gasping, don't let her tell you otherwise."

Snape's brow furrowed, concerned, and he bent toward them. "Where does it hurt?"

Hermione kicked Harry beneath the table and became aware of every eye in the room on them. "Really, I'm all right."

"Where?" Snape demanded.

She sighed. "It's nothing big. It was my stomach at first, and then my leg. I'm okay, probably just muscles—" but her words were halted as again the pain stabbed her. Closer, this time. Just about where her underwear began.

Despite herself, she panicked for a minute, and squirmed in her stool. "What's going on?" she heard herself say, and she saw Snape's bleached white face blurred in her vision. It hit her again.

And this time, it didn't miss. It plunged within her, deeply, and burned like a hot poker. She couldn't keep her mouth shut this time, and emitted a blood-curdling scream. She glanced down to find the source of her pain but found nothing, only air, only space.

Hermione jumped to her feet and stumbled before kicking her stool away from her. Snape reached out to catch her, but she collapsed, her knees making contact with concrete. In her haze, she was vaguely aware of Harry screaming at someone…she thought she might've heard the name "Malfoy"…before she welcomed the oblivion that washed over her.

Author's Note: I'm back! Please review.