It was a Sunday afternoon and Hermione was restless. The rain had finally subsided, but the air was crisp and the wind cold. It would be dark by 4:30, and any students who had spent the day outside had already retreated to their common rooms. She wanted fresh air. She wanted peace and quiet and… Sighing, Hermione bundled herself up in another jumper, threw on her robes and scarf and gloves and made her way to the entrance hall. The grounds were deserted, and the crunch of gravel beneath her feet on the drive satisfied her. She was halfway to the grave before she even realised where she was going. Hermione hesitated momentarily, before she gave way to her instincts and continued heading towards Dumbledore's final resting place. The white marble tomb was by the back of the lake, with a thin row of trees just behind it. She had been in this very place for Dumbledore's funeral, yet she remembered few of the details. The tomb was large, tall and solemn, she made a slow circuit around the circumference, pleased to find a white granite bench behind it. She was fully obscured sitting here, and her eyes mapped the shape of the grave, finally settling on an inscription near the base.

Alls bene finit bene.

Hermione frowned, her Latin wasn't great, but she was fairly sure that translated almost exactly as "All's well that ends well." She couldn't help but roll her eyes. That was almost as annoying as "the greater good" or "the ends justify the means." No simple phrase could ever properly encapsulate the enormity of what they'd all been through to get here. She thought of her parents in Australia, safe, and terrified of their only daughter. She thought of Lavender's disfigured face, of the Weasley family's grief, she thought of Teddy Tonks growing up alone, and of Snape's unbearable sorrows.

Sighing, Hermione scrubbed her hands against her face. Her feelings towards the late Headmaster were so complicated she wasn't sure she was in any way equipped to detangle them. They had won the war because of the actions and decisions he had taken, there was no denying that, but surely there could have been a better way, for Harry and Snape if for no one else. The older Hermione got, the angrier she became about Harry's childhood with the Dursleys. And Snape, surely he could have had one, just one, ally throughout this whole ordeal. Just one person to know the truth.

Approaching footsteps brought Hermione's attention firmly back to the present. The light was beginning to fade now, and though she did her best to remain calm, she removed her wand from her sleeve and held onto it tightly. Professor Snape appeared in front of her, tall, black-clad and drawn. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw her, then narrowed in dislike.

"What do you think you're doing here, Miss Granger?" His voice was quiet and cold.

"Paying my respects." Hermione was unable to keep a note of disobedience out of her voice, but she quickly softened. "I won't be much longer, sir."

Reluctantly, Snape came over and joined her on the bench, sitting as far away from her as possible, his back ramrod straight and his hair hiding his face. Hermione wished she could do or say something to bring him some small measure of comfort but came up short. Then she remembered she had brought a thermos of tea with her, her parents had bought it as a Christmas present a few years ago, but she had forgotten it entirely, so the cup was untouched. Hesitantly, Hermione poured some out, and left it next to Snape as she stood to leave.

"Goodnight, sir."

He didn't respond. And as she made her way slowly back to the castle in the fading light, she rubbed a hand against her sternum, hoping to dispel the ache that had once again lodged itself in her chest.


The cup was on her desk, still full to the brim the following morning. Hermione glared at it, angry with Snape for throwing such a small act of kindness back in her face, angry with herself for leaving it there in the first place, angry at herself for caring.

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Ginny picked up on her bad mood at breakfast before Hermione had even had a chance to say anything.

"Oh I don't know," she answered, "it's probably just the time of year."

Ginny gave her a sceptical look, but didn't push the point.

"Can we go and see Neville tomorrow evening? I think we've overdue a catch up. And I want to talk to you about Draco."

"Draco?!" Hermione exclaimed. "He's Draco now, is he?!"

"Don't make a big thing of it. Are you free tomorrow evening or not?"

"Yes, yes I'm free. Talk to me about Draco."

"I've been looking at him." Ginny said seriously. "And he looks god-awful. He looks like shit. And the other Slytherins are giving him the cold shoulder. He's quiet and withdrawn and he barely eats anything. I don't think he has any friends, and with his parents in Azkaban, I think Luna was right. He really is alone."

"Does this mean-"

"I'll tell Luna to invite him this Friday. I can't really imagine him wanting to come, but I think giving him the option is the right thing to do."

"That's really big of you Ginny. Especially when his family has put you through so much."

"I know." Ginny tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "But it wouldn't be fair of me to hold the things his parents did against him. I can give him a chance. But if he says a single bad thing about any of us-"

"I'll throw him out before he has a chance." Hermione grinned at her friend, proud of the woman she was becoming.

"Not if I get there first." Ginny replied, smiling back.


That evening found Hermione in the Hospital Wing, she and Poppy had finished the material they wanted to cover some time earlier, and had since simply been chatting. Hermione was surprised by how much she liked the Mediwitch. She had always thought of her as a bit of a busy body, but underneath the hustle and bustle was a kind and gentle soul, who genuinely wanted to help people. It was well after curfew and they were on their third round of tea, busily discussing the pitfalls of the Ministry of Magic, when shrieking down the corridor had them both on their feet. A few moments later, the doors to the Hospital Wing slammed open and Professor Snape came striding through, wand aloft. A second year girl hung in the air before him, throwing herself around erratically, screaming into the air as she tried to get free.

"Let me go you fucking snake!"

"Goodness!" Exclaimed Poppy, surveying the scene before her in disbelief. "What on earth is going on here?! Severus is it really necessary to restrain the girl like that?!"

With a flick of his wrist, Snape deposited the Slytherin on the nearest bed. She threw herself as far away from them as possible.

"If one of you comes anywhere near me I will fucking kill you. I'll fucking kill you!"

Snape turned and addressed Poppy directly.

"She had a nightmare." He said simply. "And since she awoke, she has been completely erratic. She's cursed the friends who tried to help her, one of the Prefects disarmed her, she punched him in the face. They tried to restrain her, and she lost control of her magic and knocked out half of Slytherin house. Short of Stunning her, I'm at a complete loss as to what to do."

"Don't you fucking dare!" The girl screamed, staring at both Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey with intense distrust.

"A Calming Draught?" Poppy suggested.

"NO!"

"Dreamless Sleep?"

She picked up the lamp from the bedside table and threw it at the Mediwitch.

"Goodness." Said Poppy again, running her hands over her apron. "Well let's back up and give the poor girl some space."

Poppy and Professor Snape moved back and turned towards each other, talking quietly. Hermione hadn't moved. The girl could be no older than 13 and looked much younger. She was mousy haired and slight; her eyes were dark and haunted, and her hands trembled in front of her. Without putting much thought into it, Hermione went and sat on the bed, keeping her palms upward in supplication. The girl watched her, but remained quiet.

"Hello." Hermione said. "I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

Something seemed to break inside the troubled girl, and as her hands rose to cover her face, Hermione pulled her forwards and held her against her chest as she cried. She seemed smaller still in her arms, and as she began to lose control and sob more loudly, Hermione held her tighter. She didn't notice Poppy and Snape move closer, nor see the look they exchanged as they watched the scene in front of them. She only offered what comfort she could, rubbing slow circles on the Slytherin's back as she finally began to calm, and guided her gently to lie back against the pillows on the hospital bed. Poppy handed her a bottle over her shoulder once she had settled the girl, and silently, Hermione held it to her lips like she was a much younger child, and smiled slightly as she drank the contents without comment. Swiftly, soundlessly, she succumbed to unconsciousness, and Hermione stood. She felt wrung out and hollow, like she had been the one to lose control entirely, and the hand on her back to steady her was gratefully received. The three of them stood in silence, watching the girl sleep.

"It is late." Professor Snape's voice was quiet and soothing on her right. "I will walk you to your rooms."

Hermione nodded, and they walked out of the Hospital Wing side by side.

"What's her name?" She asked quietly as they reached the second floor.

"Millie Bright."

"That sounds muggle."

"Her Father was muggleborn, her Mother pureblood. She joined the Death Eaters in the hope of saving him."

"And?" Hermione's heart beat faster, dread coursed through her.

"And they're both dead."

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Her throat had been burning as they'd left the Hospital Wing, but now she felt eerily calm, disembodied, she could almost imagine watching the two of them walking together from above.

"Please pass on my details to her." Hermione said, as they reached her door on the 5th floor. "Let her know I'm happy to listen, or even just to help her with homework or something."

Snape's eyes were dark and intense as he looked at her.

"I will." He said finally. "But don't expect her to reach out. Slytherins never ask for help and rarely accept it when it is offered, however much they may need it."

Hermione came slamming back into herself so quickly she felt lightheaded.

"How to do you help a Slytherin, then?" She whispered.

"You persist." Snape said quietly, his voice solemn, his eyes burning into hers. "And … you have patience."

He turned on his heel and was gone in a billowing of black robes. Hermione stood staring after him, her throat felt hot and tight, her eyes burned, and when she finally made it into her rooms, she threw herself onto her bed and cried herself to sleep, still in her robes.


It was Friday. The tea was in a teapot, the Map was spread out on the coffee table, the fire was burning in the hearth, and Hermione, Ginny, Lavender, Hannah and Neville were waiting for the imminent arrival of Draco Malfoy and doing their level best to pretend that they weren't. Finally, there was a knock on the door, and the five of them leapt to their feet, then sat back down, leaving Hermione to go and answer the door. Luna strolled in smiling, looking perfectly at ease, while Draco followed her, his shoulders hunched and his eyes averted.

"Come and sit down, Draco." Luna said happily. "There's plenty of room."

This wasn't quite true, Hermione thought as she surveyed the scene in front of her, pleased she'd had the foresight to conjure some cushions for the floor. Ginny, Lavender and Neville were on the larger sofa, while Hannah and Draco were sat on the smaller sofa, Luna was reclining on a green cushion by Draco's feet, leaving Hermione to make herself comfortable on a purple cushion on the other side.

"Look," said Draco sullenly, "I don't know what you're expecting-"

"We're not expecting anything," Ginny cut across him roughly. "Except civility."

"Fair enough." Was all he said, keeping his eyes down.

"How do you take your tea, Draco?" Lavender asked, indicating to the tea pot in front of her.

"Strong, half a sugar, please." He replied.

And so, the tea was served, and conversation picked up. Biscuits were eaten, and the tension that had made the room feel hot and suffocating, slowly eased. Draco didn't say anything, but Hermione watched him begin to relax, and for the first time that year, she felt a flutter of warm contentment deep in her stomach.

"Thank you, Granger." Draco said as he was leaving, his light eyes meeting hers for the first time that evening.

"You're welcome." Hermione felt her face lift into a genuine smile. "See you next week."

He gave her a stiff nod before he turned away, and Luna beamed at him as the two of them headed off towards the other end of the castle.

"Well?" Hermione turned to Ginny who was sprawled out on her bed, already half asleep.

"I don't like him." Ginny yawned. "But he needs us. I guess there's room for another stray."

"We are not strays!" Hermione laughed.

"Of course we are." Replied Ginny, pulling the covers over herself and encouraging Crookshanks to come and lie with her. "We're the soldiers who fought and survived and have to figure out what the fuck to do now."

"That's cheery." Hermione crawled into the other side of the bed.

"It's the truth." Ginny said simply.

"Am I to assume you're sleeping here tonight, Gin?"

"And they call you the brightest witch of your age. Ouch." Hermione had hit her in the face with a pillow. "Night Mione."


It was Sunday and Hermione was sitting by Dumbledore's grave again, chewing on her bottom lip as her hands cupped a mug of tea. It had barely been an hour since she'd left the castle, but the wind was bitter, and she already felt a fool for being here. This time, though, when she heard footsteps, she had to work to supress a smile that threatened to break onto her face. Professor Snape turned the corner, his eyes skimming over her like she was little more than an extension of the bench. To her surprise, he sat down without comment and ignored her completely. Taking this as a victory, Hermione cast a silent "Gemino," filled the extra mug with tea, and placed it next to her Professor, hoping he would take it.

Time slipped away, and her attention inevitably wondered back to the man who's grave they were sitting by. His supposed love for Grindelwald made so much sense to Hermione, and she could only imagine what a cursed love like that would do to a person. No wonder it had taken Dumbledore so long to fight against him, and goodness knows how much pain it must have caused the old wizard to have to do so. Hermione stole a glance at Snape, who was stonily ignoring her and her offering of tea. It must have been so excruciating for him to kill the late Headmaster, and even worse to head into the midst of the enemy without a single soul bear some of the burden with him. She sighed and Vanished the tea that must have long gone cold, filling the mug again, and standing to take her leave.

"Goodnight, Professor Snape."

Again, he said nothing.

The following morning, an empty cup sat on her desk.


The third week in this strange routine, Professor Snape greeted her with a snarl.

"You should find a different day to pay your respects."

"Or," said Hermione quietly, feeling oddly calm. "Perhaps you should."

Neither one of them spoke as Snape sat down. Nor as he took the tea that was placed next to him.


The next Sunday, he didn't come. Hermione stayed and waited outside for so long she missed dinner. She waited until the sky turned utterly black and the first few snowflakes began to fall soundlessly from the sky. She waited as the tears streaming down her face froze and stung her cheeks. He didn't come.


It was Friday and the 7 of them were chatting amicably in her lounge, drinking tea and watching over the Marauders Map. Malfoy was quite clearly fascinated by it, but although he had begun to occasionally join in their conversations, he still hadn't commented on it. Crookshanks usually watched the whole affair from her bed, or boycotted the evening entirely, choosing instead to go out hunting. This evening however, he had been watching over them with an unusually shrewd look on his squashed face, and eventually made his way over to the Slytherin, staring at him intently for several seconds before he jumped onto his lap and settled down to sleep.

"Blimey your honoured." Said Neville. "He never comes anywhere near me."

"Nor me." Hannah agreed, watching Draco stroke the cats ginger head with interest. "I always just assumed he didn't really like people."

"He doesn't much," Hermione confirmed, smiling. "But it appears he's making an exception."

"He's a bloody good judge of character, that cat." Ginny said, giving Hermione a knowing look. "Maybe you're not so bad after all, Malfoy."

"Don't be so generous, Weasley, it doesn't suit you." Draco looked uncomfortable with the amount of scrutiny he now found himself under.

"You should get a cat, Draco." Luna chimed in. "They're great company."

"No thanks."

"Why not?" Said Hermione indignantly. "You obviously like them."

"I wouldn't want to risk it." He answered evasively.

"How is getting a cat a risk?!" Ginny demanded.

"It is a risk to the cat." He answered, feigning nonchalance. "I wouldn't put it past one of the others hurting it to get at me."

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

"They … they'd hurt an animal, just to upset you?" Lavender asked softly. "Why?"

"They might. There are still plenty of Slytherins in the older years who are loyal to the Dark Lord and his cause. To them, I am a traitor."

"And to the others?" Hermione asked, feeling the quiet contentment that had settled in her stomach vanish.

"To them I'm a Death Eater." Draco shrugged.

The others exchanged grim glances with one another, each silently confirming their decision to include the youngest Malfoy in their odd little group.

"Well," said Luna finally. "That's one for the list when you graduate then. Think of how many cats you could house in Malfoy Manor! You could start your own sanctuary."

"No thanks." Said Draco again, but he was smiling slightly. "I'm selling the Manor. I'll start afresh somewhere else."

"Somewhere with room for at least one cat." Ginny said, grinning.

"Maybe even two." Lavender said.

"I think 10 cats is the best amount of cats." Said Luna, deadly serious, her large blue eyes widening in surprise as everyone laughed.


Hermione saw Millie Bright everywhere. The girls pale face and dull eyes jumped out her in the corridors, in the Hall, in the school grounds. She knew from Poppy that the girl had not been back to the Hospital Wing, but other than that, she knew nothing at all. She had tried on more than one occasion to speak with her over the weeks, but the young Slytherin had gone out of her way to avoid her and made it very clear she had no desire to be associated with her. Seeing as she was an orphaned half-blood in a house full of prejudice and in-fighting, Hermione didn't want to risk making her life any harder by pushing for a relationship. She often wondered what the girl thought about Draco, and vice versa, but though Draco was becoming increasingly relaxed on their Friday evenings, they were still nowhere near on a level of familiarity where she would feel comfortable discussing this sort of thing with him. Indeed, they had never once had a conversation outside of their weekly soirees, nor did he seem in any way inclined to initiate a closer friendship. Luna on the other hand … Hermione frowned slightly, thinking of the way Draco's features softened as he looked at the Ravenclaw. She had seen the two of them walking together in the corridors a couple of times, talking quietly. As much a Luna irritated her sometimes, she had come to appreciate and admire her unique perspective on things, and there was no point in denying her uncanny ability to see right through people. Perhaps she would be a good influence on Draco. Perhaps he could learn to properly appreciate her too.


It had been a wet and blustery Sunday. The rain had fallen hard and fast from the dark grey skies relentlessly all day. Hermione sat on her window seat and watched it. She was restless and fidgety and there was a dull ache under her ribcage that wouldn't subside. She watched as the wind blew itself out, the skies cleared, and a cold, crisp stillness settled itself over the grounds. It had felt inevitable to her all day that she would go to Dumbledore's grave, and the change in the weather only strengthened this sureness. She was composed and determined as she wrapped herself up against the December chill and made her way outside. It was the fifth week she would go, and for whatever reason, she knew today was important.

He was already on the bench when she arrived, and Hermione's lips turned upwards automatically. The tension she had carried with her all day bled away as she took in his dark robes, his pale skin, his emptiness. She sat down silently and began decanting the tea into the extra mug. For the first time, he took it from her as she reached out to place it next to him. Their eyes met momentarily, coal black against warm amber, and her heart raced to be observed so keenly. They drank their tea in silence, and the lonely image she had carried with her all these weeks of Professor Snape sat alone by Dumbledore's grave suddenly shifted in her mind, to include herself by his side. Neither spoke as they drank tea and watched the tomb as the light faded and darkness settled in. Nor as they walked back towards the castle, side by side, but a strange sense of peacefulness settled over Hermione, and for first time since she had returned to Hogwarts, she ate well and slept even better.